


You drew stars around my scars

by phlebotinxm



Series: Fitzsimmons AU [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aphasia, BAMF Jemma Simmons, Doctor Jemma Simmons, Engineer Leo Fitz, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson Friendship, Lance Hunter is a good brother, Leo Fitz & Skye | Daisy Johnson Friendship, Leo Fitz Feels, Leo Fitz-centric, Major Character Injury, Medical Trauma, Minor Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Skye | Daisy Johnson, Siblings Lance Hunter & Jemma Simmons, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, mild references to depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlebotinxm/pseuds/phlebotinxm
Summary: The smell of chemicals and the brightness of the room filtering through the thin skin of his eyelids were the first thing Fitz remembered about his new life.At 27 years old, Leopold Fitz’s life had changed drastically.After an accident that leaves him with aphasia, Leopold Fitz moves back from the United States to his mother's tiny house in Glasgow. Through hard times and painful anxiety, he slowly reconnects with an old life he's long left behind, and meets a bunch of people who will eventually turn his life around in the best way possible.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Series: Fitzsimmons AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030545
Comments: 137
Kudos: 145





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! Here I am, back again (as the Backstreet boys would say) for my very first multi chapters Fitzsimmons fanfic! 
> 
> It is entirely finished, and I have to admit that it does feel a bit like an accomplishment to have managed to write it all in 2020 of all times. As some of you may know from my fanfic dedicated twitter account ([here](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) if you wanna follow!), this is an Alternate Universe story initially based on the 2nd season of Agents of Shield. I have taken a lot of liberties with the MCU in this one, but I hope you will like them. 
> 
> **All 13 chapters have been written, apart from the epilogue (but I have 13 weeks to finish it, so it _should_ give me some time to think about it) and each chapter will be updated weekly. **
> 
> **Please beware of the rating, it will eventually change towards the ending of this story.**
> 
> As you can easily guess, I’m not a medical professional or a physiotherapist. Most of the talks and medical references I’ve written in this fic come from the internet, and I hope I’m not going to offend anyone by being too far off. I have also decided to write about two geniuses, and I'm definitely not one, so you can guess that most scientific-related conversations will come directly from the show or be mixed with thesis and essays I have found online (the Internet truly is a wonderful tool).
> 
> English isn’t my first language, and the lovely Alexandra offered to help me with a few continuity mistakes but all those that might be left are my own and I apologize for them dearly. 
> 
> As always, I wanted to say a special thank you to my friends for supporting me through this entire thing. Cyan, thank you for brainstorming the ideas with me from the very start, I don’t think I could have written half of it without you. Jus and Camille, thank you for being excited about this entire plot, and virtually celebrating every time I finished a chapter. And of course a big thank you to Luna and Nick, who supported me even tho they only knew bits and pieces of the entire thing.
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story! I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now, there are only mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts**. 
> 
> _This fanfiction is titled after Taylor Swift's Cardigan._
> 
> Please don't hesitate to let me know what you thought about it, and I hope you're gonna like it!! xx

_ “Vintage tee, brand new phone, high heels on cobblestones. when you are young, they assume you know nothing.”  _

* * *

The smell of chemicals and the brightness of the room filtering through the thin skin of his eyelids were the first thing Fitz remembered about his new life.

At 27 years old, Leopold Fitz’s life had changed drastically. 

When he woke up in a hospital bed incapable of uttering a single word, the uncomfortable plastic chair by his side desperately empty, Fitz thought his life was over.  _ It was an accident _ , they told him a few days later as his eyes burned with unshed tears, after letting him agonize over hundreds of questions for hours. Not once did the doctors talk to him directly, some of them acting like he wasn’t even present in the room when they looked at his chart with various frowns and gloomy expressions.  _ It was never meant to happen.  _ Fitz had wanted to yell, scream, cry. But nothing in his body felt familiar anymore, and he didn’t even know how to do that for a little while. 

It had been an accident, indeed. One of the prototypes his colleague had been working on had trapped him under the water of the tank they’d been testing in for several minutes, and it had taken an awfully long time to get him out.  _ “It was no one’s fault, really”. _ He was in a coma for 9 whole days before waking up on his own.

His brain had been severely deprived from oxygen, and he had what the doctors called Aphasia, along with a broken arm and several other injuries he hadn’t even paid attention to when they’d been listed to him. At first, he couldn’t even comprehend them entirely. Words floated in his head, but nothing felt tangible anymore and it took a handful of days for him to be able to simply grasp full and complex sentences. 

The first time he had finally understood the diagnosis, Fitz hadn’t been able to repress his urge to lash out in anger, sending the untouched food tray in front of him flying. It wasn’t the doctors’ fault, and a small, rational part of his brain knew that, but it didn’t mean the news didn’t hurt still. Later that night, as the cleaning lady rubbed the spot where the soup he’d thrown had spilled, Fitz had felt like the biggest arsehole in the world. He would have given everything to be able to talk to her and formally apologize, but he’d simply watched her push her cart out of the room with a tired frown and heavy heart instead. 

Fitz was 27 years old, he had just been in an accident, and could barely talk or even eat on his own. He had troubles reading simple words after writing full scientific articles since he was no older than the age of 12, and could barely talk without stuttering on every word or getting lost in his explanations as words jumbled up in his brain. 

None of his colleagues had shown up during his convalescence, not even the one indirectly responsible for the accident. As Fitz looked at himself in the mirror of the room’s attached-bathroom at night when he tried to brush his teeth, hands shaking and fingers curling around the toothbrush unsteadily, he had never hated himself more.

His stay at the hospital in Boston was short, all things considered, but cost him a small fortune. All the money he had managed to save after he’d paid the ridiculously expensive rent of his tiny flat each month, really. The Hammer Industry issued dismissal letter he found in the mail a few days after coming home wasn’t a surprise, either, but felt like a punch in the guts nonetheless. 

After a week and a half back home from the hospital with no more paychecks and now empty savings, Fitz had realized that he had no choice but to use the last of the money he’d miraculously kept on his credit card to catch a plane back to Glasgow, and straight back to his mother. As if his life wasn’t humiliating enough as it was. 

Leopold Fitz was 27 years old, and he felt like his life had already ended. 

* * *

“Leo, I know it’s hard” Linda whispered as she watched her son rest his trembling hands on his chest, swallowing heavily. “But you have to try.” 

At that, Fitz let out a loud huff. The kettle in front of him seemed to defy him, a thick smoke of condensation filtering through its opening and blurring his vision as he looked up at his mother. “You k-know it’s h-hard?” he bit back, “h-how exactly do you, hmm… do you k-know?” 

The chair rattled against the floor as he got up, pushing the flat of his palms against the wooden table in front of him. The sensation of the cool and steady surface against his aching hand always seemed to help a little, but the anger inside of him was bubbling to the surface. 

“Do you– d-do you have to– search for every word in a-a – s-sentence?” he asked, the bitterness in his voice making his mother flinch. “or think about w-what you want to say before you e-even– s-say it?”

“Leo–”

“D-don’t” Fitz shook his head, eyes watering. “P-Please.” 

Living with his mum again was both a blessing and a nightmare in disguise. Fitz was extremely grateful for her, and for everything she was doing for him. But there was only so much Fitz could do to avoid the pained looks she threw his way, and it always broke his heart into tiny little pieces. It was hard for a mother to see her child in such a state, and he knew it. But it didn’t prevent him from lashing out at her sometimes, much to his deepest shame. 

“I’m sorry” Linda shook her head, blinking away the tears forming in her own eyes. “I didn’t mean to push you. I only want to help you, you know that, right?” 

Letting out a slow but shaky breath, Fitz let his head fall down against his chest, scruffy chin brushing the soft fabric of his unbuttoned shirt. “Yeah, m-mum. I know.” 

It had been a little over two weeks since he’d first arrived in Glasgow, and the first week had been the most excruciating of Fitz’s life. It had been hard enough to have to come back and live with his mother after so long in the United States by himself, but the constant realization that his mother seemed to suffer just as much from his condition had been the last nail in the coffin for Fitz. Linda Fitz had been there for him since he was but a little kid with an abusive father, and had raised him by her own the moment Alistair Fitz was out of the door and off to America straight into another girl’s arms. She was everything to him, and all he was doing was hurting her in ways even his father never did before. 

“I n-never wanted to…” Fitz sighed, curling his fingers on the table. “I wanted to be b-better” 

“Oh Leo. You don’t have to be better, not with me. You know I love you, no matter what.” Linda came closer, hesitantly running a hand against his back. “Recovery takes time” 

“I k-know. I just wish…” 

“Go to the hospital.” Linda interrupted, her fingers curling around the back of his neck, just like she used to do when he was but a little child. “At least once. They do physical therapy sessions, and it can’t hurt to try, alright? All you need to do is get a prescription from a doctor, and it will all go smoothly from there. If you don’t like it, then I’ll stop insisting, I promise.” 

She’d been trying to get him to take an appointment at the hospital for over a week now, something that Fitz himself wasn’t feeling ready for. He felt enough of a disappointment as he looked at himself in the mirror in the morning, incapable of shaving correctly, and having to ask his mother to button up his shirts. Physical therapy was the best course of action, but Fitz didn’t feel quite ready yet to show the rest of the world how useless he’d become. 

But he couldn’t keep hurting his mother like that, not when she looked up with such hope in her eyes every time he managed to properly curl his bad hand around the handle of his tea cup. She was right, anyway. What did he have to lose? He already felt like dying every time he realized he couldn’t even properly talk about one of his old designs, when his fingers ached to work on something again. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

The smile his mother offered him in response was almost blinding. Her fingers didn’t leave his nape though, and Fitz squinted suspiciously. 

“W-what? I know something’s–” he took a breath. “Something’s troubling you.” 

He didn’t miss the way she bit the inside of her cheek, asserting the situation. Whether she knew it or not, his mother had always been quite easy to read for Fitz, as he knew all of her micro expressions by now. 

“I might have called Daisy?” Linda finally admitted sheepishly. 

Fitz heard himself groan before he even felt the sound come out of his mouth. 

“Mum!! Why w-would you do— w-why?” 

At the way Linda pulled back immediately and crossed her arms over her chest, Fitz knew he was in trouble for even asking. Her stormy blue eyes were accusing as they focused on him again, and the 9 year old inside of him shuddered in terror. 

“Why would I do that?” she huffed, crooking an eyebrow. “She’s your  _ sister _ , Leo.”

Fitz’s throat immediately constricted, his entire body tensing at the reminder. Daisy Johnson (“Johnson-Fitz”, she liked to joke quite regularly) came barging into their lives when Fitz was 14, when neither Fitz nor his mum had expected it —or her, really. 

Daisy was 7 months older than Fitz himself, and it hadn’t taken a long time for Linda to realize that one of Alistair’s old “business trips” had been more (re)productive than he’d probably expected. By the time Daisy knocked on their door at 14 years old and introduced herself as Fitz’s half sister –making both Linda and Leo pale in surprise– Alistair was long gone from both of their lives. They’d learned that Daisy’s mother had left her to the nuns at an orphanage when she was but a month old, and Daisy had searched for both of her parents all her life, only to finally find some answers the moment she’d learned how to use a computer. The both of them wanted nothing to do with her, which to Fitz’s point of view was not surprising when it came to their father, she’d found her last solution. With a few foster families under her belt, she’d finally decided to join the only real family she had left with her half brother. She had filled out a form as her dear old father to pretend that she was visiting her distant family overseas, a child’s play for someone as capable of her with a computer, and flew out to Glasgow the following day. 

Much to Fitz’s surprise and amazement, Linda hadn’t even been surprised when Daisy had walked into the living room as if she owned the place, looking around with a surprising ease. She’d offered her some tea, which had made Daisy wrinkle her nose, and sat down with her at the dining table. By the time the sun was settling down, Fitz and Linda were both arranging the bed in the old guest room that hadn’t served for years for Daisy to sleep into. It took months for Fitz to realize that Daisy was so implanted into their lives that it felt like she’d always been there, and he’d found himself a sister, as infuriating and annoying as she could be at times. 

“You never called her” Linda finally said in a breath. “I know you two… I know you had a disagreement, the last time you two talked. But it’s been two months since your accident, and you never called her.” 

The word ‘disagreement’ made Fitz flinch almost imperceptibly. From the moment Daisy had barged into their lives, Fitz and her had been inseparable. They had their fights, as any siblings would, but they always ended up back into each other’s orbits in no time. When Fitz was off to University in London less than two years after she’d arrived in their lives, Daisy had followed. She’d never wished for a proper education, but always encouraged her brother’s nonetheless. She had found herself a small job in the nearby café, hacked into a few servers from time to time, and they’d found themselves a small flat around the city for them to share. When Fitz had decided to find himself a job in America when he was 22, Daisy had followed as well, excited to get back to the country she’d grown up in.

But after spending 8 years side by side, joined at the hip at times, they’d grown apart in America. Fitz had found his job at Hammer Industries, and Daisy had voiced her objection. Daisy was always outspoken, especially when it came to the things she disliked. Justin Hammer was one of those things, and Fitz had eventually grown tired of hearing her bad mouth his job. Their shared flat became a little crowded for the two of them suddenly, and the silences over dinner more frequent. Each visit to Glasgow for Christmas or various holidays had become less and less frequent, because they couldn’t stand to put their mother through this, and eventually Fitz had moved out. 

The last time they’d talked was a couple of months before the accident. Fitz couldn’t remember exactly why and how the subject had turned to his job again, but he remembered quite vividly how fast it had escalated. By the time he’d hang up, Daisy was still screaming at him, and he’d thrown his phone over the room and onto his bed in anger.

_ “You deserve much better than this shitty company. Can’t you see it, Fitz? You’re not your father, working himself to the bone to the point of becoming an asshole to the ones he loved. Do you really wanna end up like him?”  _

Their mother had found out, of course. And as much as it had broken her, she’d let them work it out by themselves. 

Except the accident happened. And then Fitz came home. 

“I don’t… I don’t” Fitz whispered. “I can’t. Right now. I’ll be back– before d-dinner, I guess.” 

He left his mother standing in the living-room that night, disappearing outside to walk around Glasgow aimlessly until his legs felt like jelly and his tremors were too violent to be ignored. 

* * *

“Hello, Fitz” were the first words out of Daisy’s mouth when she arrived the next morning, using her old key to open the door, only to be faced with her brother standing in the middle of the living-room. He could see and  _ feel _ the way her eyes ranked up and down the length of his body, taking him in, asserting the damage. “It’s good to see you.” 

Fitz didn’t feel strong enough to reply, yet. He simply nodded, cradling his injured hand against his torso protectively. 

“Daisy!” his mother popped up from behind him, running towards Daisy to envelop her into a warm hug. Fitz could see her melt into the warm embrace, eyes closing almost instantly.

She’d changed, since the last time Fitz had actually seen her. Her hair was longer, and wavy now. She had dyed most of it blonde, but he could see a few blue strands here and there. Her eyes popped out more, this way. Fitz liked it. 

“Come on, come on in” Linda kept going, tugging at her bag. Daisy never travelled with much, mostly out of habit since she’d learned not to get too attached to things in her foster homes. All she needed was a computer, a few extra batteries and some makeup, a thing Fitz had always found funny. He wasn’t materialist per se, but he’d never been able to imagine his life reduced to a single bag that he’d carry around everywhere.

“Wow,” Daisy finally said after a long and uncomfortable silence, moving in the living room tentatively. Her eyes settled on Fitz’s face. “I can’t believe you actually grew a scruff.” 

Fitz immediately felt himself freeze in defense, shoulders hunching up. 

“It’s not like I can— I can—“ he huffed, frustration and humiliation both kicking in at once.

“Shave it” Linda supplied quietly, her eyes turning sad once again. Fitz had to turn around, his own eyes growing glassy with tears. “He can’t shave it by himself.” 

Fitz had no idea what his mother had told Daisy about the extent of his injuries, and he definitely didn’t feel ready to face yet another gaze full of pity coming from his sister of all people. For the better part of the night once he’d came home to have dinner with his mum who’d worried sick about him walking around the city, he’d repeatedly told himself that Daisy coming home could be a good thing. But now that she stood there and could see him, and how useless he’d become, he realized that it was actually the opposite. 

“Well” Daisy interrupted his spiraling thoughts with a cheerful tone, “here’s one good thing that came out of it then.”

Fitz had to take a moment to process her words, before he turned around to squint at her. “Wha’?” 

Daisy gestured to his chin. “Looks good.” 

“Are you– m-making fun of me?” 

Daisy blanched. “What? No! It looks good, it really does. It suits you. I like it.” 

One day, when they were 20 and had gotten caught for something stupid Fitz didn’t even remember, he had realized that Daisy was a very bad liar. It was quite funny to think about, really, because she was one of the best hackers in the world and jokingly hacked into one of Britain’s ex prime Minister’s Facebook accounts on a dare once, but she couldn’t lie to save her life. As he looked at her now, eyes wide with panic and hands waving in front of her as she spoke, he realized that he’d probably misjudged the situation. There was no trace of malice in her voice, and she looked as vulnerable as he probably did, too. 

“Ah” he supplied helplessly, then. With a tilt of his head, he shrugged. “Thank– you.” 

From the corner of the room, Fitz could feel his mum’s eyes burning the back of his head as she tried as hard as she could to pretend she was busy pouring some water into the kettle. Daisy seemed just as aware, because Fitz could hear her mumble something as she rolled her eyes, looking over his shoulder pointedly. 

“Fitz, could you show Daisy to her room, maybe?” Linda eventually supplied when it was clear that neither of them were going to make the first move. They were staring at each other with defiance from their far corner of the room, and Fitz felt like he was back to being 16 again and they had to decide which one of them had to set the table. 

Daisy knew exactly where her room was, because nothing had changed and Linda liked to keep their bedrooms the same for whenever they came to visit. But it was both a peace offering and a direct order, and Fitz knew but too well not to ignore it. Daisy as well, apparently.

They climbed the stairs to her room silently, Daisy clenching her bag against her chest as the old wooden stairs creaked under their feet. She’d remembered to take off her shoes before walking around the house, much to Linda’s delight, and Fitz didn’t miss the way she hummed as her socks came into contact with the floorboard once upstairs. 

“So, how does it feel to be back?” Daisy asked once she’d thrown herself on her bed, the mattress making an awful noise as she wriggled on it. “Weird, right? Damn, I didn’t feel I’d sleep in this lousy bed any more than occasionally during the holidays. I really need to make a trip to IKEA and buy a new one. I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind one for herself, too.” 

Idly, Fitz wondered if he’d stepped into an alternate reality in which he was back to being his 16 shy and awkward years old self. Daisy was acting as if nothing had changed for him and he didn’t have to cradle his bad hand against his chest to keep it still, and he realized he had no idea how to deal with that.

“I– I don’t…” 

Daisy was still looking at him when he turned his head, glaring at the wall in front of him with a mix of anger and disappointment. 

“I’m glad to see you again” Daisy chose to say instead, ignoring his struggle. 

Fitz huffed. He heard the bed rustle, and when he looked at her again, she was seated on her bed, her legs crossed at the ankle as she nervously played with the comforter. 

“Yeah. M-much to see.” 

Her face contorted into a pained expression. “Don’t say that. You know I don’t care.” 

“Everybody does.” Fitz replied as a matter of fact. “I d-do.” 

“No, Fitz–”

“You do,” he explained, huffing as his hand started to shake again. No amount of pressure against his torso helped, so he simply allowed himself to shake in front of her. “Don’t say– don’t. You care. You might not… how do you say…. you might not… mind? But you d-do care.” 

Making full sentences always felt like running a marathon, and Fitz felt the beginning of a headache tug at the back of his head. He might have to take a few paracetamol before the end of the day, judging by the way his body reacted to his sister’s proximity. Daisy’s eyes quickly filled with tears as he spoke, something that became quite a habit for people that stayed around Fitz for longer than five minutes. He tried not to let him get to him, but it was hard not to let his gaze wander around the room and think about everything that they’d been, one day, and all the things he wasn’t now. 

“I’m sorry for everything I said, before” Daisy eventually whispered. “About dad, about… about you, working at Hammer Industries. I didn’t mean it.” With a shake of her head, she sniffed loudly. “Of course you’re never gonna be like dad. You’re too good for that. I was stupid, and I’m sorry.” 

Fitz realized his eyes were filled with unshed tears when he felt one slide down his cheek, hot warm and tingly as it slid down the bridge of his nose, eventually crashing onto the floor in silence. “I’m sorry, t-too.” 

Daisy, to her merit, waited a whole two seconds before crushing him in a ribs bruising hug. It was her thing, had been since the moment they’d finally stopped dancing around each other and admitted that they did, in fact, like each other like brothers and sisters. It became a habit from the very first time Fitz had defended her in front of a group of people he used to consider friends, when they’d called her a freak for having been left behind by her mom.  _ “Your life is just different than theirs” _ Fitz had whispered against her hair that night as she’d clung to him,  _ “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”  _

As he hugged her back, pushing the side of his face against her hair and breathing in her familiar yet so different scent, Fitz realized that he might have been wrong about coming home. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t such a bad idea. 

* * *

“I swear, if you huff one more time, I’m kicking your ass. And you know I can.” 

Fitz almost felt like huffing one more time as he glared at Daisy from the other side of the set of stairs they were climbing. He’d finally agreed on going to the hospital for the first time, and of course Daisy had insisted on driving him, much to his mum’s utter delight. On the way there, Fitz had tried to ignore his ever growing anxiety, concentrating on the landscape outside of the car’s window and the loud and annoying music Daisy had put on the radio. But as soon as they’d gotten out of the car and inside the hospital, walking up to the stairs – _ ”come on Fitz, it’s only two stories up. Don’t you wanna work on that ass anyway? _ ”– the uneasy feeling in his chest had only started growing more and more. With each step he took, Fitz could feel the knot in his stomach tighten, making him want to throw up the light breakfast he’d swallowed to his mum’s insistence. 

“You wouldn’t– dare” 

Daisy threw him a look above her shoulder, from where she stood a couple of steps ahead of him. 

“I wouldn’t dare, you’re right. But I’ve forced you to go see a doctor and get a physiotherapist prescription two days ago, and I will force you to take that appointment even if I have to drag your ass through the entire corridor and into the doctor’s office. No need for violence, just a little glute strength to pull your ass all the way there.” 

Thankfully for Fitz, they were quickly arriving at their destination, and he’d probably never have to find out if she would. He did however feel himself grow restless as he approached the physiotherapist’s office, glancing around the waiting room as Daisy let himself fall without grace or subtlety on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. 

“Cool, they’ve got magazines” she pointed out, grabbing one immediately.

Fitz barely paid her any attention anymore. The waiting room felt too much like an awful memory, the white lights of the walls almost blinding him as he looked around the room for something to do that would occupy his mind for the next –he checked his watch with a trembling hand– seven minutes. On the chair, Daisy seemed unaware of his inner turmoil as he felt his breath quicken, and his mind spiral back to the fateful moment when he’d opened his eyes and his entire life had shifted on its axis. He remembered the loneliness of his hospital room, as he nursed the small hope that someone,  _ anyone _ from his work or circle of colleagues would come visit him. It wouldn’t have done any good, not with the state he was in and his incapacity to talk, but the cruel lack of flowers on his bedside table and the emptiness of the cold chair next to his bed had felt like yet another punch in the guts. 

_ “No one likes you, freak.”  _

Fitz barely spared a glance to his sister as he walked away from the waiting room, his shaky legs bringing him back to the safety of the dark staircase. No one ever bothered to take the stairs anymore when they visited hospitals, which was something he’d tried to tell Daisy when she’d forced him to take them just a few moments earlier, but for now he was eternally grateful for that at least. An empty space meant that no one could see him break down, and no one could realize how weak he truly was. When his back hit the wall as the door of the staircase closed behind him, Fitz allowed himself to slide down against it slowly, shaky hands curled protectively against his chest. The fabric of his cardigan was rolled up against his back, a feeling he usually hated, but he barely paid any attention to it. His entire body felt like it was one single and bare nerve, split open for everyone to see and judge. The trembling of his hand now made his entire body shake like a leaf, and he realized after a few seconds that the heavy sobs he could hear resonating in the vast staircase was his own breathing. 

It felt like an eternity before Fitz realized that there was someone else there with him. He became aware of the hand hovering near his arm first, and recoiled immediately. 

“Wow, wow there” a deep, masculine voice immediately said. Fitz winced, feeling like the man had yelled in his ear. He was no doubt nursing a headache, something that happened quite often after such an outburst. “I won’t touch you, buddy. I just wanna make sure everything is okay.” 

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself grow tired as seconds passed and his breathing started to even. The presence of other people very often enlightened his struggles, because he was very aware of the image it conveyed, but the man’s presence was comforting and easy. The fact that he hadn’t tried to touch him yet also helped greatly, and Fitz was extremely grateful. 

“Just like that, breathe nice and easy man.”

Fitz did as he was told, trying as hard as he could to concentrate on his breathing. He couldn’t help but hold his shaky breath with each inhalation, and the man laughed softly. 

“Don’t hold it, man. Let it flow.”

His voice was rough but smooth, and Fitz let it wash over him completely. “That’s it, man. Follow the sound of my voice. It’s gonna be alright.”

Before he knew it, Fitz’s tremors had stopped almost completely, and he was able to blink the tears out of his eyes. The relief that crashed over him was short lived, as he soon realized that he’d have to face the man that had helped him. Shame immediately filled his chest, and for the second time in ten minutes he found it hard to breathe. 

“You know when I first started here, I used to get panic attacks all the time.” The man beside him sat down heavily with his back against the wall, letting out a small sigh as his back popped a little. “I was so nervous. Did you know that I’m the first one in my family to have reached college? Let me tell you, when you have a big family like mine who’s looking up at you and waiting for you to carry the weight of the entire family name with you, you get cold sweats pretty often.” 

Curiosity got the best of Fitz eventually, and he turned his head slightly to the side to peak at the man who was at this point just a faceless voice behind closed eyelids. His first immediate reaction was surprise, as he laid eyes on the man’s outfit, realizing that he might hadn’t been tended to by another patient who was walking by but by a doctor. The man seemed to follow his train of thoughts, because he immediately smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright, man. I’m on a break, right now.” As if to emphasize, he showed Fitz the cellphone he was balancing between two fingers, as well as the electronic cigarette at the hollow of his palm. “I’m Trip. Well, Doctor Antoine Triplett actually, but please call me Trip. I hate titles.” 

Trip didn’t seem phased in the slightest when Fitz just stared in confusion, rolling his neck slowly left to right in silence, never pushing him to speak.

“I’m— s-sorry” Fitz eventually managed after a few more seconds of silence, looking down at his feet. 

“Hey man. Don’t apologize. You’re here for the physiotherapy, yeah?” 

Trip must have seen his frown, because he gestured at his right hand, that Fitz had curled around his chest. “I’ve noticed that your hand shook quite a lot. I’ve seen that before” he said, a shadow passing through his eyes, gone as soon as it appeared. “It’s alright, though. Doctor Simmons here, she’s the best. Patched me up real good after one of my accidents.”

“Y-Yeah?”

Trip chuckled. “Yeah. I’m the kind of doctor who doesn’t like going to the doctor, can you believe that? We actually do exist.” He waved his hand around in a dismissive gesture. “But Simmons is really cool, man. She’s one of the only doctors I actually like seeing.”

“Okay.”

The knot in his chest had actually loosened a little, Fitz realized with a blink. Trip’s presence, or maybe it was their easy conversation, had actually helped more than anything he’d ever tried when he got into such states of anxiety. 

“You should go, though” Trip said with a smirk, looking at his watch. “Simmons usually takes people at 15 past, and it’s almost 10 past now. You don’t wanna be late, do you?” 

Fitz swallowed around the knot in his throat. “I guess not.” His voice was weaker than he’d intended, but Trip didn’t seem to mind. He was the first one to get up, popping his knees in place as he did, before immediately extended a hand for Fitz to take. 

“I told your sister I was taking care of you” the other man warned right before opening the door, which made Fitz freeze in his tracks. He’d totally forgotten about Daisy, and how worried she must have been to see him run away like that. “Just so you know. She was pretty worried, but I know how overwhelming panic attacks can be when you’re crowded. Siblings and families can mean good, but sometimes it’s all a little too much” 

Once again, Fitz felt eternally grateful for the man standing in front of him. “T-thank you so much.” he managed, not without difficulty. 

“Nah, man. Don’t mention it.” 

They got out of the staircase then, Trip throwing Fitz one last encouraging smile before they walked into the physiotherapist’s waiting room. As soon as he did, Fitz saw Daisy jump out of her chair in a flash, and he was immediately crushed into a tight hug. 

“Oh my god, Fitz” she whispered, pulling back to be able to look him in the eyes. “Are you okay? I was so worried, but the Adonis Doctor here told me to stay here and—” 

“I’m fine, Daisy” Fitz immediately intervened, feeling himself blush. Behind him, Trip let out a throaty laugh. “Trip helped.”

Daisy glanced past his shoulder, presumably straight at Trip, with a raised eyebrow. “Okay” she said, slowly. “I’m glad to know that  _ Trip _ has helped.” Then, she sobered up pretty quickly, all traces of amusement disappearing from her face. “But please don’t do that to me again, Fitz. I was worried sick! I was reading about Meghan Markle and the next thing I knew my brother was running away. I like drama as much as the next person, but not that much!” 

Fitz huffed, shaking his head. Of course Daisy would have to be so  _ Daisy _ about all of it. But it felt good, not to feel scrutinized and evaluated like a ticking bomb ready to explode, something Fitz knew she could do when it came to the people she loved. His sister had had his fair share of disappointments in foster homes and in life in general before she even came to live with him and his mum, which made her clingy at times. 

“I’m serious,” Daisy insisted, her hand tightening a little on his shoulder. “I’m here for you, okay? Always.” 

This time, the smile Fitz gave her in response wasn’t forced. “I k-know.” 

Luckily for the both of them, and just as Trip had mentioned a little earlier, Fitz’s meeting time had come up. When Fitz turned around to thank Trip one more time, he realized that the man had disappeared god knew where, leaving him alone with his sister again. Fitz was about to voice his annoyance —he really wanted to thank Trip again— when the door to the doctor’s office opened at this exact moment. And Fitz’s throat went dry as he laid eyes on his appointed physiotherapist for the very first time. 

“Hello” Doctor Simmons said as she opened the door to her office wider, allowing the person she was with to slip out after shaking her hand and bidding him goodbye, turning towards Daisy and Fitz. ‘“I’m Doctor Jemma Simmons. I take it that you are Leopold Fitz?” she asked him, smiling warmly, before focusing her attention on Daisy. “And you are..?” 

“I’m Daisy,” she immediately said, offering Doctor Simmons her hand to shake with a wide smile. “I’m Fitz’s sister.”

“Oh! Wonderful. I don’t get people coming with their families a lot.” Doctor Simmons confessed, throwing another glance at him from the corner of her eyes. 

Fitz, on the other hand, was completely frozen. His lips refused to move as he desperately tried to get a few words out, and he knew he was ogling her like a freak as she greeted both him and Daisy with her warm smile and comforting eyes. When did doctors trade mean gazes and constant frowns with warm honey eyes shining at the harsh light of the hospital waiting room and plump lips curling around a warm smile? Fitz was definitely not sure he wasn’t dreaming still, which would probably explain a lot. Even the doctor’s hair looked perfect, wavy and silk to the touch as it fell down her shoulders and framed her beautiful face wonderfully. 

“I was just here to drive him,” Daisy confessed, sneaking a glance at her brother. Fitz could feel her piercing eyes on his face as she studied his unusual reaction, and he hated how vulnerable he felt. Knowing her, he’d never hear the end of it. “I’ll leave you guys to it.” 

“Alright” Doctor Simmons clasped her hands together, tilting her head as she looked back at Fitz once more. “Shall we?”

All he could do was nod curtly, following her as she walked inside of her office. 

  
  



	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please excuse the mess” Doctor Simmons said as soon as the door was closed behind them. “I had a bit of free time earlier in the day, and I got a little carried away with my books, as you can see.” 
> 
> Fitz took some time to look around the office. Contrary to most of the Doctors office he’d been in for the last few months, he felt immediately at ease. The light beige walls were decorated with various children's drawings and pictures from all around the world, and there was a big library on the farthest wall. He could spot a treadmill and a few other sports equipment here and there for physical therapy, but the medical side of the room wasn’t as obvious as he’d imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!!!   
> Here comes chapter 2! 
> 
> First of all, I'd like to wish you all a happy new year, hoping that 2021 might bring you anything you heart desires —and most importantly be better overall than 2020. I'd also like to thank each and every one of you again for leaving me such amazing and heartwarming comments on chapter 1, and supporting me so soon into this adventure. I'm so happy to know you liked the beginning of this story, and hopefully will like the rest of it as well.
> 
> This is probably my favorite chapter of the entire fic, mostly because of the new character I introduced and how much fun I had writing the developing dynamics in the chapter as well. And without further ado, I'll let you guys enjoy it!
> 
> As always, you can follow me on my fanfiction dedicated twitter [here](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works! 
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, I always look forward to hearing from you!! xx

“Please excuse the mess” Doctor Simmons said as soon as the door was closed behind them. “I had a bit of free time earlier in the day, and I got a little carried away with my books, as you can see.” 

Fitz took some time to look around the office. Contrary to most of the Doctors office he’d been in for the last few months, he felt immediately at ease. The light beige walls were decorated with various children's drawings and pictures from all around the world, and there was a big library on the farthest wall. He could spot a treadmill and a few other sports equipment here and there for physical therapy, but the medical side of the room wasn’t as obvious as he’d imagined. Her desk was not as much as a mess as she made it seem, though, only covered by half a dozen books and a few notepads covered in messy scribbles. Fitz recognized his own study pattern, from when he’d been able to hold a pen that is. 

“From what I’ve read on your file” Doctor Simmons said as she sat on her chair, inviting him to do the same on the other side of his desk as she tidied up her workspace. “and feel free to correct or interrupt me anytime you feel like it” she threw him a glance, never parting from her smile. “You were in an accident, which cut out your brain’s supply of oxygen for a significant amount of time. As a result, you were in the coma for 9 days and subsequently suffered from brain damage and Aphasia caused by Hypoxia, is that right?” 

Once again, Fitz felt himself nod. Against his chest, his hand was starting to shake slightly, out of frustration for his lack of verbal response. He felt like a 10 years old in the director’s office, and he hated to think that he might look uncomfortable by the entire situation when for the first time in a long time, he truly felt at ease. If Doctor Simmons noticed his inner struggle, she didn’t say a thing, her eyes dropping to his file once more. 

“Cerebral hypoxia can include a decrease of motor coordination, as brain cells are extremely sensitive to oxygen deprivation” she explained calmly, “which is the reason you’re here today.” She closed the file, deposing it on her desk before putting the flat of her palms against it. “The good news is, a coma can give the brain an opportunity to regenerate and heal. You were in the coma for 9 days, Mr Fitz, which is both extremely long and very short.” 

Of all the things she could have done, Fitz appreciated the fact that she wasn’t patronizing him. Many doctors had, when he’d woken up.  _ “You were extremely lucky, Mr Fitz. The damage could have been subsequently worse.”  _ However, the use of his father’s name of all things made him wince. 

“Fitz” he blurted out, internally kicking himself immediately. Of course he had to be rude on his first ever interaction with the kind doctor who looked like an angel fallen straight from heaven. He didn’t even think about the fact that for the first time, he hadn’t stammered around his first word. 

To her merit, Doctor Simmons only blinked in confusion, her brows knitting together slightly —and Fitz had to admit, adorably. “Excuse me?”

“P-please, don’t… call me L-Leopold, or-or Mr. J-Just Fitz is... fine.”

He could feel the way his cheeks had heated up as he spoke, his eyes falling on his lap immediately. It felt like an eternity since the last time he’d had any social interactions with anyone other than his family, and the last thing he wanted was for his doctor to think he was rude. 

“Alright, Fitz” Doctor Simmons nodded, her tone just as kind as before. Fitz still couldn't detect any form of judgment in her tone, but he kept digging holes in his jeans with his eyes. “You can call me Jemma, then.” 

Fitz looked up in surprise. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the Doctor title” Jemma kept going with a small, almost secretive smile. “I have two PhDs after all. But we’re gonna spend a lot of time together, if things go well here. So if I have to call you Fitz, you can call me Jemma.” 

For the first time since he’d stepped foot into the hospital, Fitz felt himself smile. 

“Now,” Jemma said as she got up, walking towards the cabinet to her right, digging into a few supplies there. “From what I also gathered, your aphasia is strictly expressive, which is caused by damage to Broca’s area. You have no troubles understanding me, or reading do you?”

Fitz shook his head. “I can’t— w-write.” he added for good measure, his shaky hand giving him away. 

“You can’t write… yet.” Jemma emphasized with a smile, walking towards him and pulling out a chair to sit closer, her sweet perfume overwhelming Fitz in the most delicious way. Fitz usually didn’t like strong scents, it very often made it hard for him to stay near its source. Jemma’s perfume wasn’t like that, though. It was sweet, exhilarating and oh so beautifully  _ hers _ . He lost himself a little in the moment, before she brought him back just as suddenly. “Now, let’s take a look at this hand, shall we?”

During his time at the hospital, Fitz had hated being touched. Most of the nurses and doctors never asked him for his consent on anything, simply touching and probing away as they talked amongst them. Jemma seemed to notice the way he tensed up, and immediately gave him a reassuring smile. 

“One thing,” she said as she encouraged him to go sit on the comfortable couch at the back of her office “I’ll never touch you without your explicit consent, something I will ask every time.” When he stayed silent, mostly out of shock, she kept going. “If you don’t feel like talking, even though we are supposed to work on that together, we need to find a system that works for the both of us. How does that sound?” 

All Fitz could do was nod. 

“Alright! Briliant. Now, I believe your left hand wasn’t impacted in the accident, am I right?” 

“N-No.”

“So how about tapping my arm twice with two fingers if you feel like stopping, how does that sound?” 

Fitz swallowed. “G-Good.”

“Now, can I take your hand?” 

Wordlessly, Fitz handed out his bad hand before he could think twice about it. He was pretty self conscious about the way people stared at his trembling limb, but Jemma hadn’t glanced at it once since he’d walked in her office. He knew she was most probably doing it for his sake, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. 

When her cold fingers grabbed his hand, Fitz jumped a little. She threw him an apologetic glance. 

“My fingers are little ice buckets, aren’t they?” She whispered, scrunching her nose adorably. She rubbed them together against his skin, and Fitz felt himself flush from head to toes at the attention. “Now, tell me if I hurt you when I press on certain muscles, alright? I’m just testing the waters, to see what kind of paralysis we’re dealing with.” 

All the way through the test, Fitz had to fight back the need to stare at Jemma. There was something about her that was different from any doctors he’d ever encountered so far, and it had nothing to do with the way she gently held his hand and asked him to clench his muscles with a kind and patient voice. While it was certainly nice not to feel pressured and cornered, it wasn’t exactly all that made him feel at ease. 

He couldn’t ignore that she was gorgeous. She’d almost taken his breath away when he’d first laid eyes on her in the waiting room with her caramel eyes and blinding smile, but there was something else about her that appealed to him from the start. The fact that he felt so comfortable around her only added to his fascination with the young doctor, and she fortunately didn’t seem phased by his attitude. Idly, he wondered if she thought he was a creep, which made him wince a little.

“Am I hurting you?” Jemma asked immediately, her fingers releasing their pressure on his hand. 

Fitz shook his head. “N-no. S-s-sorry.”

“I was almost done anyway” Jemma said with a smile, her fingers grazing his skin one more time before she let go of him entirely. He missed her warmth immediately. “I think there is quite a lot for us to work with, I’m not going to lie. But from what I can see in the way you carry your hand, and feel when I touch your muscles, there are certain motor functions you could regain with simple exercises, and time.” She smiled, and warmth spread inside Fitz’s chest. “The physical part isn’t worrying me, though. From the calluses I could feel, you are probably used to working with your hands, and old habits die hard.” 

Fitz huffed a laugh, realizing with a start that it was the first one in what felt like forever. Jemma seemed delighted, her face lightening up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. 

“Now, the speaking part is probably gonna be more of a challenge” she confessed, never parting from her smile. Fitz felt his stomach plummet, as if a huge stone had been dropped at its bottom. “But, I have faith in you, Fitz. I think we’re gonna make tremendous progress together.” 

* * *

By the end of his appointment, Fitz was entirely convinced he was head over heels in love. Not that he’d admit it to anyone, of course, especially not his sister… or even himself. Daisy always had been incredibly observant and involved, especially when it came to his love life. He’d been able to feel her piercing eyes studying him once he’d gotten out of Jemma’s office, thanking her without stuttering for once, and ducking his head slightly as she smiled up at him. Luckily for him, Daisy wasn’t alone at the end of his appointment and she’d been far too busy bidding goodbye to the man she was seated with with a flirty wave and casual smile. It had avoided him questions for the better part of the ride back home —like a silent agreement, she didn’t speak about the man with a walking stick she’d be outrageously flirting with and he didn’t talk about the physiotherapist coming right out of his sweetest dreams— but he knew it would not last. 

As soon as Daisy parked the car in front of the house, Fitz knew he was in for a proper interrogation. If Daisy’s smirk was anything to go by, she definitely intended to be a part of his misery. 

“So, how did it go?” His mum asked as soon as they were inside the house, wiping her hands down on her apron as she walked out of the kitchen. “How are you feeling, Leo? I’ve made some spaghetti bolognese, your favorite.” 

Daisy nudged Fitz none too gently, her big brown eyes shining with amusement. “Fitz was the living embodiment of the heart eyes emoji. I’m sure he was considering asking her to marry him right there and now. He didn’t even have the time to feel embarrassed that I was standing there, he was gaping too loud for that.”

Fitz gasped. “I was n-not!” 

“He was! He was as red as your skirt, mom, I swear.”

Fitz felt himself flush all the way down his neck as his mother’s eyes fell on him, asserting the situation. “Is that true, Leo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. 

Fitz opened his mouth to reply, realizing that she sly grin on Daisy’s face was now matched by his own mother. Instead, he let out a huff. “It’s n-not like Daisy can…” he snapped his fingers, looking for the precise word he wanted to phrase. “can t-talk. She was making eyes at the l-lad in the waiting room.” 

This time, it was Daisy’s turn to open her mouth in outrage. “Fitz!” she exclaimed, cheeks turning pink, as she crossed her arms on her chest protectively. She’d done that since she was a child, Fitz had noticed, and typically did when he hit just the right sensitive spot. “That’s not.. entirely true.” 

Behind her, Linda shook her head. 

“I left you two alone for an hour” she whispered, almost to herself. “One single hour.” 

* * *

From that point, it became Fitz and Daisy’s ritual to go to the hospital together. Fitz obviously couldn’t drive himself, and he found that Daisy used every excuse she could find to come with instead of their mother. The brown haired guy who was always scheduled right after his own appointment seemed to be the main reason for Daisy’s enthusiasm, but Fitz kept his mouth shut. After all, Daisy had agreed to stop pointing out how dreamy eyed he looked whenever he walked out of Jemma’s office, and it was only fair to return the favor.

What Fitz hadn’t expected however, as his mother dragged him from his —very comfortable, and already dearly missed— bed, was to find himself face to face with the object of his fantasies at Tesco. 

It was no surprise for him to realize that Jemma had been the center of his thoughts and dreams since he stepped foot into her office for his first session. Jemma Simmons was gorgeous, kind, gentle, and everything else he tried very hard to ignore as he closed his eyes and went to sleep at night. She was constantly on his mind, something his mother and sister seemed to somehow  _ feel _ whenever he got lost in his thoughts, endlessly teasing him about it. It had only been two weeks of Fitz getting to the hospital for his physiotherapy, and way too soon for him to really judge his own progress, but he couldn’t have talked about the exercises he’d done even if he tried. He was way too focused on Jemma, her hair and smile and voice and how in awe of her he was. 

Which was the reason why he was so taken aback when he found himself facing the object of his thoughts at Tesco as his mum, unaware of the current events happening right under her nose, kept babbling about their  _ God awful _ neighbors…

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed, her lips pulling into a smile immediately. “Hi!” 

His mum fell almost comically silent, asserting the situation with a perfectly crooked eyebrow Fitz knew but too well. She seemed surprised enough to see an individual of the opposite sex addressing her son, and Fitz knew he was deep in troubles when she tilted her head slightly to the side, eyes narrowing.  _ Oh boy _ .

“I’m sorry, who are you lass?” 

“M-mum!” Fitz hissed, turning red as a lobster. His hands tightened on the handle of the shopping cart when Jemma’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as well, taken aback by Linda’s bluntness. 

“Oh, I’m sorry” she immediately replied, turning to face his mum. “I’m Jemma Simmons” she offered her hand, and Fitz was pleased to see that his mum shook it firmly. “I’m Fitz’s physiotherapist?” 

Fitz could see the moment his life turned sideways and his mum realized exactly who she was talking to. The gears in her head seemed to come to an halt, and her face broke into a wide smile. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. You see, my son never really talks about the people he meets.” 

One look sideway told Fitz he’d hear all about it later, as if he hadn’t told his mum about Jemma before. Granted, he’d told her about how nice Jemma was, but he’d never told her just how gorgeous and downright perfect she was. 

“Oh that’s alright” Jemma chuckled, her cheeks still a lovely shade of pink as she looked from Fitz to his mother. She clutched her basket to her chest, balancing her weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to bother you.” 

“Nonsense! You’re not bothering us at all.” 

Fitz could feel the last semblance of control he had on his life slip away as his mum stared at Jemma, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“I was just surprised. You must have made quite an impression on my boy for him to talk about you” Linda kept going, waving her hands around. Fitz wanted the ground to swallow him up entirely. “He’s always been a bit of a loner, even as a child. I tried signing him up for footie, even tried rugby, but he never really got along with people his age anyway.”

Jemma’s eyes fell on him. Unable to avert his gaze, Fitz felt like his cheeks were burning up under the intensity of her brown pupils. She seemed to outright study him, and for the first time in his life Fitz wished he could read people’s thoughts, just to find out what was currently happening in her curious brain. 

“I’m not really surprised” she eventually said, shifting her gaze from his to his mother’s. 

Linda nodded vigorously. “He’s a good boy, he’s just too quiet for his own good” she explained, throwing Fitz another ‘ _ I told you so _ ’ look.

“M-mum!” He hissed. “Just… d-don’t.” 

The situation was embarrassing enough as it was without his mother in the picture. Finding out that Jemma liked to shop at the same exact supermarket his mum went twice a week would be enough for him to overthink every time she stepped foot here now, and the last thing he wanted was for Jemma to feel uncomfortable. He vaguely wondered, as his gaze dropped to the shopping cart he was pushing around for his mum, if she silently judged him for his current prediction. After all, he was pathetic enough to live at his mum’s, but now he was also pushing her cart and unable to speak when she babbled about him to what was possibly the most beautiful and intelligent woman he’d ever meet. 

“It’s alright” Jemma countered, never parting from her kind smile. “I was the same for a long time, before I went to University. It was only then that I found people who understood me, even though they were a little older. Sometimes, it takes time for some of us to find our paths.” 

Fitz heard his mum suck in a gasp. “Exactly” she said, this time a little softer. “The world is a cruel place, innit?” 

“That it is,” Jemma nodded, her eyes turning a little sad. “which is why it’s important for everyone to find their rightful place, even if it’s not always easy.” 

Fitz felt like his legs were made out of pure cotton as he stared at the two women speaking, feeling like his entire existence was now summed up in their presence. From his mother, the person who’d pushed him into this world and taught him everything there was to know about being a man to the one who tried as hard as she could to patch him up, and make him whole again. It was fitting in a way, if not a little dizzying, to watch them interact. 

“Leo always had trouble fitting in” his mum kept going. It was a little embarrassing, but somehow the pain in her voice held any objections he could have had back. He was suddenly too surprised by her vulnerability to interrupt her. “No amount of sports or other activities made him thrive. It all lacked the spark of excitement I could see in other kids’ eyes when they came home from those afternoons. I thought I wasn’t doing something right, somehow.” 

Fitz felt his throat close up. He’d never realized quite how much his mum had suffered from his difference, too. He remembered all those nights when he’d caught her tears filled eyes as she wiped off the wetness on his cheeks after he’d come home bruised and crying after being tormented by his comrades, remembered how much she worried about him fitting in, too. But he didn’t quite realize how much she’d tormented herself about it. Because Linda Fitz wasn’t one to complain, as a true Scottish lady. 

“Until one day I found him staring at an engineering set at the shopping centre” Linda kept going, her smile turning a little softer. “It was expensive, mind you, but I could see the way his big eyes bulged when he looked at all the things he could do with it, and the world of possibilities it opened for him.” 

He remembered that set. It had caught his eyes from the moment he’d entered the aisle, and when his mum had left him there to grab a few things and told him to stay right where he was, he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation. He hadn’t realized how long he’d stood there watching it, turning it around in his little hands until his mum’s voice had interrupted him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“And there they were, the sparkles in his eyes.” She finished, smiling up at Jemma. The look on the other woman’s face was unreadable, but Fitz didn’t miss the way her fingers had tightened on the hanse of her basket. “It just took a little more creativity than most to find them.” 

Jemma chuckled. “I’ll do my best to see those sparkles again, then.” she whispered, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. 

That very night, as Fitz tossed and turned in his bed, he wondered what exactly Jemma had meant by that. 

* * *

Three weeks after their initial session, Fitz suddenly realized that he  _ was _ getting a little bit better. His hand still trembled, and he still stuttered badly enough to be embarrassing at times, but he’d realized one morning as he’d asked for Daisy’s help with his bowl of milk that he didn’t feel quite as useless around others. He could feel Daisy’s hopeful little smiles whenever he openly asked for her help, and his mum’s teary eyes whenever he managed to do something all by himself. For the first time in months, he didn’t feel coddled or infantilized, and he allowed himself to soak in his small victories. 

Jemma Simmons was just as wonderful as she’d been the first time they talked, and even more so. 

Everytime he walked into her office, Fitz found himself hit right in the chest with how beautiful she was. It was not only physical —even though there was no denying how gorgeous she looked with her kind honey eyes, her plump pink lips and her wonderful smile— but also entirely due to the fact that she was entirely brilliant. Fitz had been surrounded by brilliant brains during his time at Hammer Industries, but he’d never met someone like Jemma Simmons. During his childhood and teenage years, he’d always felt like an outsider because he’d gotten his PhD at the age of 16, and found himself surrounded by older people all his life. During a discussion with Jemma (a discussion during which he’d mostly stuttered, and she’d been ever so patient with him and told him about her own life) he’d found out that she’d gotten two PhDs by the time she’d turned 17, and had always been passionate about biology and biochemistry. She was actually three weeks younger than him, and had moved from Sheffield to Glasgow a handful of years before to pursue her physiotherapist and speech language pathologist career. 

By their fourth appointment, Fitz felt a little less ashamed every time he opened his mouth to speak to her. Jemma never pushed him, and he’d spent almost the entirety of the third session with her keeping quiet and solely working on his hand. He found that she never pushed him to do what she wanted, quite the opposite, and he was ever so grateful for that. 

“What do you want to work on today?” Jemma asked as he sat down on the comfortable couch of her office during their fourth session, something Jemma had encouraged her to do very early in their sessions. He’d tried to sit in the wooden chair in front of her desk, and she’d coaxed him into sitting in the more relaxed area of her vast office, arguing that it would make them both feel more comfortable. Not that Fitz needed any help feeling comfortable with Jemma around. 

“I feel like—” Fitz began, stopping when he realized that he couldn’t find the right words to phrase the rest of his sentence. Instead of being annoyed this time, he simply settled on a small sigh of disappointment. “Speech.” He finally said, more quietly. 

“Alright. Let’s work on your speech then.” she sat down next to him, folding her hands on her knees. “We talked about it before, impairment-based therapy consists in stimulating specific listening, speaking and writing skills. So what do you want to do today, is there anything that appeals specifically?” 

One of the things Fitz liked the most about Jemma was how open and blunt she was. She’d quickly understood that she didn’t need to tone her medical vocabulary down for him, and he appreciated it greatly. She’d even seemed impressed when he’d finally been able to blurt out that he had a PhD in engineering, and the conversation that followed had been one of Fitz’s favorites so far. 

“M-Maybe... “ Fitz trailed off, staring at the pens on the coffee table in front of them. 

Jemma seemed to pick up on what he meant, because she smiled. “We can do both oral and written if you want,” she said, getting up to retrieve a piece of paper and put it on the coffee table in front of him. “Would you rather go sit at the desk, or stay here?” 

In lieu of a reply, Fitz slid down to sit on the floor, crossing his legs —not without difficulty. Jemma simply sat down next to him, her proximity making Fitz flush all the way down his neck as her arm brushed against his. He felt hot, all of a sudden, and slightly regretted putting a beanie on. He’d done so after realizing that it had been a while since he’d last went to the hairdresser, and the mess of curls on top of his head made him look like a teenager who hadn’t groomed in months. The beanie made him look like a hipster, according to his overbearing sister, but he didn’t quite mind as much. He’d simply tried to make himself look a little more presentable for Jemma, not that he thought she would eventually be interested. Her ring finger was bare, but it didn’t mean she was single, or in the slightest bit interested in a broken patient anyway. Fitz was content just nursing his little crush. 

“Remember what I told you,” Jemma said, her sweet voice making Fitz shiver from head to toes. Thank God he’d decided to wear his favorite cardigan for the appointment —they were so easy to put on and he didn’t need quite as much help as he did with the buttons of his shirt, which was embarrassing enough— and Jemma couldn't see the goosebumps on his arms. “Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ll only hurt yourself, and all I want is for you to feel more comfortable with everything we do here, alright?” 

God, Fitz was smitten. 

“How do you feel about those sessions?” Jemma asked after a little while, watching him as he struggled with the pencil. Fitz was halfway through writing “hello”, the lines shaky and painfully small. “Do you feel slightly better, or worse when you come home? I’m not pushing you to reply, and I need you to be honest with me more than anything Fitz. Recovery is not linear, and it’s normal to feel like you’re stagnating sometimes.” 

Fitz shrugged. “I l-like— I think I’m o-okay.” He didn’t make sense in the slightest, and frustration rose in his chest. “I’m s-sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, Fitz” Jemma immediately countered. “You’re doing well, very well even.” 

This time, Fitz couldn’t help but huff in disbelief. In his peripheral vision, Jemma shook her head. “You are,” she insisted, “look at what you’ve just done with a small pen.” 

Fitz hadn’t even realized he’d managed to write a very shaky and almost illegible “hello” in the middle of the page, his fingers cramping painfully around his pen. 

“A few months ago, you couldn’t even hold it just right” Jemma insisted, her hand coming up to frame his around the plastic pen. Fitz willed himself not to react, even though his heart felt like it would jump out of his chest. Jemma’s fingers were freezing, but it felt good against his sore muscles. 

“It feels g-good” Fitz whispered eventually. “Coming here. W-working with you.” 

The smile Jemma gave them in response made his heart leap in his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t even prevent himself from reaching out with his good hand and rubbing at the sore spot, as if he could physically soothe the feeling with a simple gesture. “I’m really glad,” she replied. 

“It helps.” He tried again, taking a deep breath. “With… p-people.” 

Jemma frowned slightly. It was an adorable habit of hers, something Fitz longed to see every time he was in a session with her. The way she scrunched her nose was absolutely precious. “You mean your sessions helped with the way people approach you and your disability?” 

Her fingers left Fitz’s, and he let go of the pen entirely. “Y-yeah. People want… explanations. They want s-straight facts. They don’t really get it.” 

Jemma hummed, her brows creasing slightly. “You don’t like having to explain your injury, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

“I-it’s not that” Fitz huffed, bending his head. 

“Then what is it?” Jemma’s tone was kind, patient. She never pushed him to speak, she never pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to do, really. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He’d do anything for her. Which was pathetic, because she was his psychotherapist, and he was just a damaged patient struggling to put two words together in a sentence. 

He shook his head. “They treat me like…” He left his sentence hanging in the air, afraid of finishing it. What if Jemma judged him for it? He was already pathetic enough as it was. 

“Treat you like what, Fitz?”

“T-Treat me like I’m gonna... Like I’m gonna break.” 

Silence followed his declaration, before Jemma let out a small  _ oh _ of surprise, her face contorting in a pained expression. Her eyes were kind but not judging, and she looked like she felt the need to reach out to him for a moment, fingers hovering over his arm before they dropped on her lap again.

“I feel good, here” Fitz said, eyes still cast on the seam of his trousers. “I l-like it.” 

The sharp intake of break Jemma took did not go unnoticed, and it was enough for Fitz to look up at her. Her eyes seemed a little wet, but the smile on her face was probably the most precious thing he’d ever seen. 

“I’m really glad you feel safe here, Fitz.” she said, her voice a little tight. “And I can tell you, honestly, that you’re doing brilliantly. I know it must not seem like it, but you’re progressing wonderfully and I’m confident you’re going to be able to go on with your life in no time.” 

Fitz didn’t have the heart to tell her that the mere idea made him sick, because getting to see her every week was the only thing keeping him sane. 

“So. How did it go with your super hot physiotherapist?” Daisy teased a little later, as they walked out of the hospital and towards the car. 

Fitz felt his shoulders tighten in response. “How d-did it go with your mysterious— waiting room-secret-lover?” he bit back. 

Daisy’s scowl was worth it, anyway. 

* * *

When they got home, Daisy and Fitz stumbled upon something (or rather someone) they never thought they’d see in their childhood home’s living room. 

“Hey Fitz” Daisy whispered not so discreetly as she closed the door blindly behind her, “am I seeing things or is Tony freaking Stark sitting on our living room couch?” 

Fitz was frozen on the spot next to her, eyes wide as he looked at the scene unfolding in front of them. 

“I’d say you’re not seeing things” Tony —freaking— Stark replied from said couch, barely paying them any attention as he took another bite of Linda’s shortbread. “This is delicious, Linda. Probably one of the best sugary things I’ve ever eaten, but please don’t tell Pepper, she’d have my head for this. She’s taken a liking in cooking between stressful CEO meetings, and she likes to use me as a personal test subject.”

From the other side of the couch, their mother gestured at them to come closer with a big smile on her face, as if the idea of a multi billionaire slash superhero testing her cooking was entirely normal. 

“Ok so… what the fuck?” Daisy asked, sitting down —without grace or any kind of ladylike manners that Linda liked to insist upon, Fitz noted— on the couch opposite the one Tony Stark(!!!) was sitting on.

“Daisy Johnson!” Linda gasped. 

Tony immediately waved his hand dismissively, swallowing around his mouthful of shortbread. “It’s fine, Linda. I worked with the army, trust me when I say I’ve heard worse.”

“It’s no excuse,” Linda replied, sitting a little straighter and glaring at her daughter. 

Fitz eventually found his way to the couch as well, sitting down a little more shyly. Tony immediately looked up at him, studying him from head to toes in a scrutating and frankly uncomfortable movement. “Hi” he eventually said with a smirk. “You’re Leopold Fitz, right?”

Incapable of forming a proper sentence, Fitz simply nodded. “Just F-Fitz.” 

All the progress he’d made with Jemma was thrown out of the window as he faced the CEO of one of the greatest prosthetic industries in the world. Stark Industries had been initially made famous around the world for creating weapons destined for the American army, only for the company to completely take on a different path once Tony Stark had been made CEO after his father's passing. Ending all contracts with the Army and any other kind of weapons specialists, Tony Stark created the scandal of the century when he’d decided to use his society’s money to create high tech prosthetics for veterans at first, then other patients around the world. As a boy, Fitz had always been in awe of both the concept and the man, and it did feel a little overwhelming to be seated across from him in his childhood home. 

“Alright, just Fitz'' Tony smirked, licking his palm where some sugar remained. “I hear you’re pretty good with your hands.” 

At this, Fitz immediately deflated. His shoulder shagged, and his hand twitched on his lap. “U-used to be,” he replied. 

“That’s bullshit. I've seen some of your work, it’s impressive.” Tony said, taking the towel Linda offered him to wipe out his sticky hands. “I’ve read about your accident, too, and your mother explained it to me a little better.” 

Fitz had to look away, then. He vaguely felt Daisy creep a little closer in silent support, but he tried to concentrate on the outside world not to spiral again. Outside of the window, clouds were starting to cover the last remaining bits of blue sky visible, obscuring the room just as much as Fitz’s mood. 

“What I meant is” Tony tried again in a tony that made Fitz wonder if his mum had dared to kick him in the shin like she used to do with him and Daisy when they were kids, “I’ve got a job offer for you.”

This time, Fitz’s head whipped around so quickly he felt his neck crick. “W-wha’?” 

“Now I know your recovery might take a while. Years, even. It’s alright, I don’t care. I’ve got time, money, all that. But I’ve seen the prototypes you starred to design for Hammer Industries, the little drones?” 

“Dwarfs” Fitz corrected. “They’re not….. f-functional.”

“No, but with more resources and a better boss than Justin Hammer, they could have been.” 

Fitz kept staring, and Tony kept going.

“I recognize potential when I see it. The drones —dwarfs, sorry— were something I would never have thought about. Which means you’re almost as brilliant as I am, which means I want you on my team.” 

It felt like a dream come true, something Fitz definitely didn’t see coming, which was the reason why he tried as discreetly as possible to pinch his thigh with trembling fingers.

“You’re not dreaming” Tony said, amused, “and trust me when I say I didn’t fly from New York to Scotland of all places to prank you, either. I was about to have dinner with Pepper when I stumbled upon the dwarfs design, and, well. I’m not a very patient man.” 

“What’s this job anyway?” Daisy asked, tone careful but first. “Is it the head of design department one?” 

When silence met her question, she shrugged. “I hack into things. I might have… hacked into your system a little while ago.” 

Tony simply stared for a little while, before pulling out the latest Stark-phone from his expensive looking blazer. “Jarvis?” 

“There might have been a slight breach into the system” a distinctively British voice replied immediately. 

“Oh well, as long as it’s slight,” Tony sassed back, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for warning me about it, buddy.”

“To be fair, Sir. I’ve only now noticed it. Whoever did it was, and it pains me to admit it, good.” 

Next to Stark, Linda looked a little flustered. She threw Daisy a glance, but Fitz realized with an inner chuckle that Daisy didn’t look sorry in the slightest. On the contrary, she looked pretty confident, crossing her arms on her chest in defiance. 

“Who are you again?” Tony eventually asked her with barely disguised interest. 

Daisy smiled. “Daisy. Daisy Johnson, his sister.” 

Stark’s eyes went from Daisy’s face to Fitz’s, before he turned around to look at Linda. “Well, looks like I’m not the only one with daddy issues.” Fitz almost wanted to be offended on Daisy’s behalf, but he did have a strong point. “So you’re the sister, and you like to hack into big societies’ servers?” 

The shrug Daisy gave in response made him smile. 

“Alright. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a job yourself, would you?” 

Daisy’s lips stretched into a smile. “Depends. You’re offering?” 

* * *

The following Wednesday, Fitz knew from the moment he woke up that his appointment with Jemma would be a disaster. The pounding headache he was nursing creeped behind his eyelids even before he opened his eyes, and he spilled some of his breakfast on his favorite shirt —the one that complimented his eyes, according to Daisy. On top of that, he realized quite early in the day that his hand trembled more than usual lately, and by the time they got to the hospital he had the worst cramps all the way up to his shoulders. Admittedly, he had no nausea —which often happened when he had a pounding headache and woke up from awful nightmares during his bad days— but he didn’t feel rested in the slightest. His shower had taken him all the strength he had, and he almost fell asleep in the drive to the hospital. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be fine?” Daisy pressed one more time when they approached Jemma’s office. 

Fitz nodded. “Yeah, I’m s-sure. Don’t worry about me, just…” he shrugged, and Daisy’s eyes immediately fell on the man seated on a chair not too far from them. Fitz was able to get his first good look at him, and could barely repress a smile when he realized that the guy only had eyes for Daisy. He looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes matching his own, but the smile on his face was huge. His leg was propped in such a manner that Fitz didn’t need to know why he was there, because there was no mistaking the stiffness of a prosthetic. 

“Y-yeah. I’m sure you will” he whispered, and was not even surprised to realize that Daisy did not hear him, waving at the other man with an expression he didn’t recall seeing on her face before. 

Daisy had never been lucky when it came to love, something they both shared (much to their mum’s displeasure). One of her ex boyfriends, the first she’d really loved, had died in a car accident a few years before they moved to America. Getting over Lincoln had taken her years, and the few flings she’d had afterwards were never meant to go beyond that. To see her smile so widely and carefree at someone warmed Fitz’s heart. But before he could linger on the thought a little more, Jemma’s office door opened and Fitz lost his breath a little. 

She looked gorgeous, like she always did, but her beauty never ceased to surprise him. Her brown hair was straight this time as opposed to the waves she had usually, falling down her shoulders and framing her face. She wore her usual eyeliner and mascara combo, and her honey brown eyes found his in no time. 

“Fitz” she said in a breath, her lips curling around a smile. “Hi.”

She sounded a little breathless, but Fitz thought it was most likely his imagination talking. He’d day dreamed so much about her lately, and her little hitch of breath only fueled his imagination—and not always in a kid friendly way. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, much less himself. 

“Hi” he managed, and thanked heaven Daisy was otherwise occupied with the mystery man from the waiting room. Jemma’s smile widened, and he caught her surprised glance towards the waiting-room before she invited him inside. 

“I didn’t know Daisy and Daniel knew each other” she said as she closed the door, and Fitz only snorted. “Yeah, they d-didn’t. Met when I came here. The f-first time.” 

Jemma raised an amused eyebrow. “Uh, would you look at that. Interesting.” 

Her mood —and her general presence, really— already helped, and Fitz had to blink a few times to ground himself, because he was pretty sure he looked completely in awe of her as she pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “So what should we work on today?” 

Immediately, his aching limb reminded itself to Fitz and he grimaced. His entire upper body hurt, and he couldn’t even control the tremors in his hand. 

“Oh” Jemma said, looking down at it. Understanding flashed on her face. “Do you want to do some exercises for your hand?” 

“I c-can’t. Hurts… too much.” He gestured vaguely at his shoulder, then his entire arm. “I just… can’t.” He huffed, staring down at the floor. He resisted the urge to stump his foot on the floor like a child, something that would only add to the feeling of embarrassment that was crushing his chest. 

“Oh” Jemma only said, and her surprise was followed by silence. “Fitz, I know it can be uncomfortable for some patients, which is why I am asking. But would you let me massage your hand and arm? It can help with the cramping, and also ease the ache in your muscles too.” 

Fitz’ surprise was evident on his face as he looked up at her, but his gaze met nothing but kind understanding, and what looked like a small sparkle of hope in her brown irises. Silently, and almost shyly, Fitz nodded. As soon as he did though, he felt his heart constrict in his chest at the smile Jemma gave him. Why would he ever accept such a proposition? There was no way Jemma ignored the way his hand shook whenever he came to his appointments, but actually feeling it was a different thing entirely. Fitz had had enough pitying looks for a lifetime, and he thought it would actually break his heart to see such a thing on Jemma’s face. 

“Alright” Jemma said, never parting from her beautiful smile. “Come on, I think the couch will be more comfortable for this.” 

They sat down side by side on the couch, Jemma’s legs almost touching his when she moved close enough to be able to let her hands hover near his arm. “I’m going to touch you now, Fitz” she whispered, and Fitz willed himself not to swallow audibly. “Is that okay?”

In lieu of a verbal response, he merely nodded. It gave Jemma the permission she needed though, and Fitz let out a small gasp when her fingers came into contact with the skin of his hand.

“Are you okay?” Jemma worried instantly, looking up at him with big, worried eyes. “Did I hurt you?” 

“Uh, n-no. Your hands are… freezing, that’s— just. That.” 

Her proximity made it hard for him to think, or do anything else really. All he could do was stare at her beautiful —and so close now— face, her intoxicating smile and inebriating perfume. He was once again struck by how much he didn’t mind her scent, when he usually was thrown off or even easily disgusted by strong perfumes. Jemma’s hands were soft on his, even if awfully cold, and he resisted the urge to turn the tables around and wrap his own fingers around hers to warm them up. But her touches were strictly professional, and no matter how badly he wanted to, he’d never touch her inappropriately. 

“Oh” Jemma gasped, letting go of his hand to rub hers together, trying to warm them up. “I’m sorry.” Once she deemed them warm enough, she resumed her previous position, and Fitz bit the inside of his cheek. “Tell me if it hurts, alright?” she insisted, her fingers a little less cold now as she rubbed them against his skin lightly, but Fitz shivered from head to toe nonetheless. There was no denying the effect she had on him now, but he could thankfully blame it on the coolness of her phalanges if she asked, which she thankfully didn’t. “I’m gonna start massaging now.” 

When Jemma dug her thumb in the sore muscles of his palm, Fitz felt himself tense up, a grimace contorting his features. He hadn’t realized how tense he was, but there was no mistaking the way his muscles protested the treatment. Jemma’s eyes were focused on the task at hand, and Fitz once again felt grateful for not having her judge his reactions, because there was no way he could hide how much he wanted her. Pressed together like this, her cleavage was right under his nose and it took him all of his willpower not to look as she moved with each stroke of her thumbs against his palm and upper arms. 

“Are you alright?” Jemma inquired, not looking up from his arm. She could feel his shivers, but she’d probably decided to ignore them entirely.

Fitz wanted to reply, he really did, but his mouth felt like he’d swallowed ashes. Their proximity was intoxicating, and one mistaken glance down as he tried to open his mouth and talk revealed to his already overheated mind that Jemma was wearing a white lace bra as she bent down a little, using the gravity of her body to push against his forearm. Fitz bit back a moan, looking up at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut tight. 

“Fitz, am I hurting you?” Jemma insisted, her voice now filled with worry. He couldn’t ignore it this time, and with a small exhale of breath, he shook his head from right to left. 

“No,” he said, clearing his throat. “No, you’re n-not. I’m sorry, it feels…”

“Feels good?”

“Y-yeah. Really g-g-good.” 

And it did, too. His sore muscles felt better already, and Jemma’s fingers were now warm as they rubbed against his overheated skin. But Fitz’s inner battle was raging on, and no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t forget the glimpse of skin he’d gotten by genuine accident. She had freckles all the way down her cleavage, a fact that he was now incapable of ignoring, and something that made his heart race. 

“That’s good” Jemma whispered, the pad of her thumb grazing the inside of Fitz’s elbow. “But do tell me if I ever hurt you, alright? It’s very important for me to have your consent, and your feedback.”

And how could he tell her that he was seconds away from whimpering again, just from the simple feeling of her hand against his skin? How could he admit that all he could focus on was her presence, and how much he wanted to lean in a little closer? 

“Maybe you should talk to me about something” Jemma eventually said, her heads sliding up and down his arms as she dug her thumbs in his sore muscles. His tremors had subsided a little bit, and Fitz almost wanted to sigh out of sheer relief. 

“T-talk about what?” 

“I don’t know. Whatever you’d like to talk about? You can tell me anything. Or you can stay silent today, if you’d rather.”

Fitz did not want to stay silent. He only had a few hours with Jemma during the week, and no matter how hard it always felt to speak —or try to, really— he never wanted to waste time keeping silent when he saw the blinding smile she gave him every time he tried to pronounce a correct sentence. Absentmindedly, Fitz wondered if he’d ever done so much effort if it was for anyone but Doctor Jemma Simmons, but pushed the thought at the back of his mind. 

“You told me you had no problems reading anymore,” Jemma kept going, her thumb digging in a place that made Fitz hiss in discomfort. She gave him a pained look, but kept on massaging it steadily. “Do you have a favorite?” 

“I love the L-lord of the Rings” Fitz confessed with a small smile. “My mum bought me the…”

Jemma nodded encouragingly. “Book?” 

Unlike everyone else, it didn’t annoy the hell out of Fitz whenever Jemma finished his sentences. She always seemed to know exactly what he thought, never interrupted him in the middle of his struggles, and their conversations always felt effortless. 

“Yeah, that. She bought me the b-book when I was a kid. I read it so much— s-so many times, I had to glue some…”

“Some of the pages?”

“Yeah, s-stick them back i-in Because they, hmm… fell o-off.” 

Jemma smiled fondly at that. “I had an astronomy book when I was a child, my dad bought it for me. I used to read it so much it literally fell to bits, and it broke my heart to actually throw it away. But there was no saving it really, I’m telling you.” 

In a perfect world or in different circumstances maybe, Fitz would have maybe teased her a little bit, told her about how he could have probably fixed it because he was quite good with his hands. But this wasn’t a perfect world, and Fitz was broken now. 

“You l-like the stars?” He asked instead, swallowing past the lump in his throat. 

Jemma hummed, and Fitz could almost feel it in her fingers. “Yeah. When I was little, I had a surgery to fix my scoliosis. I had to lay flat on my back for weeks, and my father would wheel the bed outside of my room so that I could watch the stars and learn about them. It was our little moment, you know? I loved it. I’m fascinated by the stars, and I’ve even wanted to be an astronaut at some point.” 

“What m-made you— change?” Fitz asked, curiosity peaked. 

She huffed, her fingers stopping their course on his arms for a handful of seconds. “That’s a story for another time” she eventually admitted. 

Jemma told him about her love for the stars a little longer, talking about her favorite constellation and how she used to look for it every night before going to bed, which drove her mum absolutely crazy at times. All the while, Fitz couldn’t stop thinking about how much the freckles on her cheek and all the way down her neck and cleavage reminded him of a constellation themselves, and were most probably his favorite in the whole world. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this second chapter! 
> 
> You can find me on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm), or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg).   
> I also have a [ tumblr ](https://iamnelvenqueen.tumblr.com) if you want to follow me there, but I don't use as much as I use both my twitter accounts! :)


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jemma, are you coming?”
> 
> Blinking in surprise, Jemma snapped her laptop shut and forced a smile on her face. Standing at the entrance of her office, Trip huffed a small laugh. 
> 
> “Come on, girl. You don’t have to pretend with me, you know it.” He said, tilting his head to the side as Jemma pushed her laptop in its protective case and put it in her yellow handbag. “We have a whole twenty minutes together in the car, and you’re gonna tell me everything that’s bothering you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there!!!   
> Surprise! I have decided to change my publication days to Sundays instead of Tuesdays, mostly because it's more convenient for me as I sometimes work full time or work on my Uni classes as well. I hope you don't mind the slight change of schedule!
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments on the two first chapters of this fic. I'm so glad to know you love it, and I hope you will like the rest of it just as much *crossing fingers*. 
> 
> This chapter gives us our first insight inside Jemma's mind, and I'm so excited to see if you guys like it. I had so much fun writing her, as always, and of course developping her various relationships with the other characters of this story. 
> 
> **This chapter comes with a wonderful art from Natalia ([find her twitter here](https://twitter.com/Mrelliotfitz)), and I couldn't be happier with it. She's incredible, please make sure to check her amazing artworks, she's so breathtakingly talented! **
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments!! xx

“Jemma, are you coming?”

Blinking in surprise, Jemma snapped her laptop shut and forced a smile on her face. Standing at the entrance of her office, Trip huffed a small laugh. 

“Come on, girl. You don’t have to pretend with me, you know it.” He said, tilting his head to the side as Jemma pushed her laptop in its protective case and put it in her yellow handbag. “We have a whole twenty minutes together in the car, and you’re gonna tell me everything that’s bothering you.” 

There was no fighting Trip when his mind was set on something, and Jemma Simmons knew it better than most people. She’d met Trip back when she’d moved from Sheffield to Glasgow, when she’d been looking for a roommate and found him via a Facebook group. He’d been one of her closest friends ever since, and it was a happy coincidence that they’d found themselves working at the exact same hospital eventually. They’d gotten used to driving together in Trip’s car in the mornings and at night when Trip’s shifts worked with her own schedules even though they’d long moved out of their tiny shared apartment, and today was one of those days. 

“Why am I even talking to you?” Jemma huffed as she locked the door to her office, following Trip outside of the hospital. She was dead tired after the rough day she’d spent, and she felt like her legs would give in with every step she took towards the entrance of the hospital and Trip’s car. 

Trip snickered. “Because I’m your friend and you love me?” 

“Yeah, that must be it.” 

Most likely feeling her exhaustion or simply because that was how Trip was —overly touchy and simply adorable, not that he’d let anyone say it to his face obviously— he wrapped one of his big arms around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. “Come on, Simmons. Let’s get you inside the car before you fall asleep on your feet, and then you can tell me everything about that pout you’re trying so hard to hide.” 

“I’m not trying to hide anything” her gasp told him otherwise, but Trip had the intelligence not to point it out. But as they walked towards the entrance of the hospital, Jemma caught a familiar beanie from the corner of her eye. 

There, seated at the terrace of the hospital’s coffee shop, were Fitz and the woman that had been introduced to her as his sister, Daisy. Fitz looked awfully tired and quite annoyed to be in the hospital still almost two full hours after the end of his appointment with her, and Jemma’s heart ached a little for him. She always told her patient to go home straight away and rest as physical therapy could drain, and she knew it must feel particularly hard for him to sit in such a noisy and busy environment. She’d noticed his sensitivity to most outside noises and new sensations straight away, something that hadn’t phased her in the slightest considering his apparent shyness and all the tiniest things she’d noticed about him straight away. 

Fitz was absentmindedly playing with the wooden spoon he’d been given with what Jemma recognized as banana bread. It was one of her favorite sugary treats to order from this coffee shop, and she couldn’t help but smile a little when she realized that Fitz and her had yet something in common. She also noted that his hand seemed to be steadier as he pushed a few crumbs of cake around the plate in front of him, and Jemma couldn’t help but feel a spike of satisfaction at the physical and undeniable proof that her earlier massage had eased his pain. 

On the other side of the table, Daisy was talking with Daniel Sousa, another one of Jemma’s patients. The man looked at her like she’d just hung up the moon, and Daisy didn’t even seem to be aware of it. Daniel had been a patient of Jemma’s for a little while after having lost his leg in a car accident. Jemma had seen him at what she could call his ‘worst’, and she could definitely tell that the Daniel currently sitting in front of Daisy and Fitz was the exact opposite.

“Jemma?” Trip worried, and it was only when he pulled her from her observation that she realized she’d stopped walking. “Are you alright?” 

His gaze followed Jemma’s, and it was only when he found FItz’s table that the worried line between brows eased. “Oh” he chuckled, “that’s Fitz, right? Your favorite patient.” 

Jemma felt her throat close up at Trip’s words. “He’s not my favorite patient” she replied immediately. She had made the mistake of mentioning Fitz a few times —alright, maybe a lot— to Trip after their first session together, and Trip hadn’t stopped teasing her ever since. 

“Whatever you say, Simmons.” 

At that exact moment, Fitz looked up from his plate and his impossibly blue eyes found Jemma’s immediately. Jemma could feel the moment his surprise turned into a spark of embarrassment to be caught pouting openly in the middle of the hospital’s hall, and she fought the need to reach out and reassure him immediately. Fitz let go of his wooden spoon, the object falling in the ceramic of the plate in a small noise Jemma could barely decipher from where she stood, and his cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. In her ear, Trip chuckled, and Jemma suddenly felt her skin crawl at her friend’s touch. Fitz’s eyes traveled from hers to Trip’s and for a small moment, Jemma was sure she could see a spark of sadness in his eyes, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. 

“We should go home” Trip eventually said, and Jemma sighed in response. She knew he was right, but she’d childishly wished she could have spent a little more time looking at Fitz and his adorable beanie. Instead, she just waved goodbye at him shyly, and turned around reluctantly. 

The outside of the hospital was bright, something that was quite rare at that time of the evening, especially in Glasgow. It must have been a beautiful sunny day out, and Jemma felt her heart drop a little at the idea of missing it. It had been so long since she’d taken a day off, and she felt like she couldn’t stop working lately. But obviously, there was no way for her to just leave her patients without a doctor, which meant that her much craved vacations would have to wait a little more.

“So,” Trip said once the car was leaving the hospital’s parking lot. “Anything you wanna tell me about that awkward little wave you did there?” 

For a moment, Jemma wished Trip wasn’t driving so that she could hit him in the shoulder, and she was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was thinking by the look she gave him. “Stop this” she warned, crossing her hands on her chest instead. 

“I haven’t said anything. You just confirmed to me that you’re a little soft for the cute Scottish patient with aphasia, that’s all.” 

Which was the entire problem, Jemma thought. Because for one, Fitz was her  _ patient _ . Key word, underlined, in bold in the text. And Jemma was a professional, or at least she thought she was. Because Leopold James Fitz —yes, she’d taken a look at his papers and found out his real name, and so what? It wasn’t like she had searched for his social media… or only his Facebook page, really— was putting her good conscience and professionalism to the test. 

From the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, Jemma had felt her heart clench in a way she’d only ever felt before when she was a child and looked at romantic comedies with her friends. She would go to bed with a childish smile on her face and dream of big strong arms and beautiful eyes, of someone who would love her the way men loved women in Hollywood movies. Fitz was nothing like the men she used to date. He was smaller and leaner for one —Jemma was not one to deny that she liked muscular men, even though they very rarely lived up to her expectations when it came to the intellectual side— but also way more bright and smart than the rest of them. She didn’t need to actually hear him talk to know that he was, too. 

She’d read a lot of his published articles before even meeting him, something that she’d probably never admit. Fitz was a young prodigy, very much like herself, and she remembered thinking that he was wasting his talent when he got his job at Hammer Industries, something he’d mentioned in one of his very last articles published. She’d fallen in love with the scientific theories he’d written in his free time, starting with the one on dielectric polarization, and getting to meet him no matter the awful circumstances was something she was incredibly grateful for. But she hadn’t been ready for the raw pain she’d seen in his eyes, something she saw quite often in patients waiting on the other side of her door. 

Aphasia was a heavy thing, and brain damage in general was a terrible thing to go through. Jemma felt for all of her patients, but of course she couldn’t help but feel her heart break a little more when it came to Fitz specifically. She knew what it was to have a brilliant mind swarming with billions of ideas you barely had time to put on paper before they went away, replaced by brand new ones. She could not even begin to fathom the pain he must be in, deprived from his greatest strength and identity like this. Which was why she was so keen on helping him, but she hadn’t been ready for the assault of various emotions she’d felt the first time she’d taken a full, proper look at him. 

She definitely hadn’t been ready for his beautiful and so expressive blue eyes, pink and kissable lips and the way his stubble complimented the shape of his face perfectly. He was wearing a cardigan that looked awfully soft that first day, and Jemma knew it was most likely not to have to button up a coat as his hand twitched from where he’d cradled it against his chest. Over the next few weeks he’d started wearing a beanie, and when she missed the sight of his soft curls, she couldn’t ignore the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach when she’d first seen him in one. There was no denying Fitz’s attractiveness, but it was more than that. It was the way he held himself, full of self doubts when he had no reasons to, it was the sparks of joy she could see in his eyes everytime he managed to talk properly for a full sentence and the way his cheeks heated up everytime she praised him. 

“Earth to Jemma?” Trip’s voice pulled Jemma from her daydream, and she realized she’d kept silent just long enough to be suspicious. “You do know you’re confirming my theory with your non-response, right?” 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

And what if she dreamed about blue eyes and soft cardigans when she closed her eyes at night? No one was there to witness it and judge her, after all. 

* * *

Out of all the things Jemma expected at 11pm, a soft but rhythmic knock against the door of her flat was not one of them. She had just gotten out of the shower after losing herself into a good book, and working some more on one of her theories —she needed to find a way to deliver dendrotoxin under the subcutaneous tissues, but there was no way she could find a way to minimize it enough to use it on anything anyway— when she was so rudely interrupted. She took some time to tighten her robe around herself, the chilly air unforgiving at that time of the night, before she opened it wide. 

“Hunter?” She exclaimed immediately, “What... What are you doing here?”

“Hey there, love.” 

Lance Hunter had been one of Jemma’s best friends since she was a little girl growing up in a quiet neighborhood in Sheffield, England. She’d watched the moving van pull up next door one morning with curiosity, wondering if the teenager she’d gotten a glance at would end up being one of the same ones that made fun of her for liking biology so much at school. But after a few weeks, it became clear that Lance (Hunter, he insisted on being called), although quite different from her and definitely noisier, would become one of her closest friends. Although he was a couple of years older than her, he was the one who snuck in for her graduation party and went as her date when “cabbage head” Milton —his words not hers— decided to go make out with her friend Tracy instead and left her in tears on the dance floor. 

Right after the passing of her father when she was only 12 years old, Jemma had put her mind into moving out from her little house in Sheffield, working days and nights to get the best grades and get into medical school. She never had a great relationship with her mother, something she’d never truly regretted until there wasn’t another parent to turn to anymore. Her mother was a lawyer, worked crazy hours in her firm and did not leave much time for her daughter that she saw more of an inconvenience rather than a family member. But through it all, Hunter had been there for her in a way her mother never was. He stood by her side during her graduation, helped her put her few bags into the car when she moved out and even tried to intimate Trip the first time he’d met him. 

Things never were romantic between the two of them, and Hunter slowly but surely became the brother she never had. Jemma could always count on him through both the good and the bad, and soon enough he was the only relative she considered as such. As of 2020, it had been five whole years since Jemma had last heard from her mother. 

“Come in already” she opened the door a little wider, shivering as the cold Glasgow night paralyzed her muscles. She could barely believe it had been sunny in the afternoon with how fast the climate changed in this part of Scotland, a typical Scottish weather she still tried to get used to. 

Hunter was carrying a big sports bag, his phone balanced between two fingers on the same hand. “Thanks, love. Fuck, I actually forgot how bloody freezing it was in this country.” 

Jemma noted as she closed the door that he was still wearing his wedding ring, something that made her sigh in relief. “What exactly are you doing here at that time of the night, Hunter?” 

“Well,” He smirked, letting himself fall on her previously occupied couch, barely avoiding the laptop there. “Bobbi and I are going through a rough patch” he offered, face contorting in an apologetic grimace. 

“Oh boy” Jemma muttered, feeling a headache coming already. “I’m gonna make some tea. You go get your stuff” she mentioned at the bag he’d carelessly thrown on the floor “into the guest room, alright? Since you’re apparently going to stay here for a little while.” 

Hunter had met Bobbi when he was still at University, studying graphic design and having no idea what to do with his life. He’d always been good at drawing, something Jemma always admired about him, and had decided to pursue studies in that field. Bobbi was studying biology, and despite having no single classes in common, they had met during a party they’d both attended. It had taken a single night for Hunter to fall madly in love with her, but months for Bobbi to actually warm up to him. 

Their relationship in itself was as chaotic as their personas, and Jemma remembered them calling off their engagement several times before even getting to the wedding ceremony itself. Ever since, they’d come close to divorcing a handful of times as well, something that would only half surprise Jemma. But no matter how rocky their relationship was, she was actually convinced that they were made for each other in their own weird, special way. 

“You have no idea how good it feels to drink proper tea,” Hunter sighed as soon as he was back from his temporary room, taking a proper sip from the cup of tea Jemma laid in front of him on the coffee table. “Not that Walmart crap they sell in America.” 

Jemma snorted. “I can imagine, yeah.” 

She couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over his body, taking in all the visible changes within her friend. He looked a litter tanner, something that wasn’t surprising considering the weather in Florida as opposed to Scotland. His hair was a little longer than she remembered, and the little waves looked good on him. “So what’s happening with Bobbi now?” 

“Whatever happens all the time, you know,” the shrug he gave her in response was almost too detached to be real. “We fought, again. She told me I was immature, couldn’t keep a real job and all that, so I slept on the couch and decided to leave for Scotland the next morning.” 

“Very mature of you indeed.” 

“Oi, don’t you start. I have enough of that at home.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea. There was obviously more to the story, something that Hunter wasn’t telling her. “And how long do you plan on staying?” 

His guilty look was enough to tell her everything she needed to know.

“You didn’t take a return ticket, did you?” she asked with a glare. 

“Not really, nah.”

* * *

The characteristic sound of a FaceTime call coupled with the loud buzzing of her phone on the nightstand pulled Jemma out of her book. Putting her book away after marking the page, she grabbed her mobile and felt her eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

  * _L. Fitz — calling._



Throwing a glance at the door, she waited for a few seconds, making sure that she hadn’t disturbed up Hunter. It was barely past 9 in the evening, but Jemma had made it clear that she would no stay up until unreasonable hours with her friend, especially if it meant crashing on the couch and watching dumb movies on Netflix. As much as she liked it, she also had to wake up at 5am to work out and prepare for her day of work, something Hunter didn’t have to suffer through. 

Getting a FaceTime call at that hour of the evening from one of her patients was new, though, and she didn’t want Hunter to get curious. In her hands, the device kept on vibrating. 

She’d given Fitz her number after a hard session for the both of them. She remembered how frustrated and shaky he had been that day, and how his eyes had filled with tears when he’d found himself incapable of even holding a pen with his bad hand. She understood the frustration, the anger and even the shouts, sometimes. But Jemma couldn’t stomach the sight of defeated tears. She’d looked at the way Fitz sat there, shoulders hunched and eyes screaming for help, and she hadn’t even hesitated before grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling her number on it. 

_ “If you ever feel like giving up”  _ she’d told him, pressing the thin fold of paper into his shaky palm, helping his fingers close around it.  _ “You call me, alright? Any day, anytime. I know it’s hard, Fitz, and I wish I could take all of this pain away. But the last thing I want is for you to give up, and think no one is here to help you.”  _

Two and a half weeks had passed since this day, and Fitz had never used the number. Jemma had no idea how she felt about that, something she tried not to overanalyze too much. Giving away her number to a patient was a first for her as well, but she’d long stopped pretending Fitz was a patient like all the others and she didn’t have a soft spot for his baby blue eyes and kind smile. She also trusted him not to use it for unprofessional purposes, ignoring the small secret part of her that sort of wished he would. 

Sliding her finger across the screen, she accepted the call.

Almost immediately, she was faced with semi darkness, and the vague shape of someone’s face. Swallowing back the initial wave of disappointment at the idea of not being able to see Fitz’s face, she cleared her throat.

“Fitz?” She half whispered, trying as hard as she could not to disturb Hunter. Whether he was in the living room or the spare bedroom, the walls were paper thin in this house. “Are you alright?” 

On the other end of the call, Fitz let out a small, shaky breath. “Y-y-yeah. Sorry, I'm… I d-don’t know why—”

“Don’t apologize” Jemma countered immediately. She straightened up, sitting a little more comfortably against the headboard. She’d slouched a little as she read, but she tried to look a little more decent in front of a patient —no matter the hour of the day. Her face was free of any makeup and she wore a large tee as pajamas, something that would usually make her feel a little self conscious, but she didn’t think Fitz was even aware of how she looked at the moment. His breathing was erratic and the hand holding the phone shaky, which made it hard for her to discernate his surroundings. “How are you doing, Fitz?” 

“I’m— I’m…” Fitz exhaled slowly, and Jemma was able to discern a small light on what looked like a bedside table. 

“Why don’t you turn on the light a little bit, Fitz?” she encouraged, trying to keep her voice as low and kind as possible. “Maybe it will be less oppressing than pitch dark.”

Fitz didn’t reply, but she could see him fumble for the lights. After a few seconds, a small yellowish light appeared through the screen, and Jemma could barely retain a smile when she saw Fitz’s face appear. His hair, that she hadn’t seen in quite a long time now, was sticking in every direction. His curls looked incredibly soft to the touch, something that struck her immediately, as much as her urge to run her hand through it. 

“T-Thank you” Fitz whispered, the image blurring slightly as he moved to sit back against what appeared to be a wall. “I’m— I hope I’m not—” 

“Don’t worry about me” Jemma replied immediately. “I’m glad you called, Fitz.” 

His eyebrows creased together in disbelief. “R-really?” 

“Yeah. I told you, you can call me anytime you feel like you’re struggling.”

“It’s… Late.” 

“It is. But I wasn’t asleep, as you can see.” She wriggled her book in front of her screen, and Fitz’s lips twitched around a small smile. Jemma was shocked to realize how much his face changed when he smiled, and desperately wished she could see that twinkle of happiness more often. 

“R-reading before b-bed?” 

“Yeah” Jemma sighed. “I’m an old person, as you can see.” 

This earned her a small chuckle, the sound reverberating through her entire body.

“I l-like to r-read, too. Before bed.” Fitz said quietly. His gaze flickered to something off camera, and his smile fell a little. “It’s just… a little h-hard now. To focus, mainly.” 

“I’m sorry” Jemma offered, sincerely. “I know people probably told you that before but.. I’m sincerely sorry that happened to you.” 

Fitz stayed silent for a little while. “Thank you”, he eventually whispered. His forehead was still creased and his hand holding the phone shook a little, but he seemed more at ease than he’d been at the beginning of the call. “You look g-gorgeous,” he blurted out suddenly, eyes widening slightly as if the words had slipped past his lips without him meaning to. 

Jemma chuckled a little self deprecatingly. “I’m not wearing any makeup, I’m in my pjs and my hair is a mess. I seriously don’t.” 

“You d-do. You don’t need m-m-makeup to… to look gorgeous. Inside and out.” 

Jemma felt her stomach tingle with feelings she didn’t want to name. Even though there weren't a lot of lights in Fitz’s room and she could barely see his face, she imagined the two red cheeks he must be sporting after confessing this, and it made her heart ache with indescribable feelings. 

“That’s one of the sweetest compliments everyone’s ever made to me,” Jemma said, a small smile on her lips. 

Fitz scoffed. “I don’t b-believe that.” 

“So, how are you feeling?” Jemma changed the course of the conversation, not wishing to get lost in a slippery terrain. The idea of her favorite patient calling her that late at night was enough to send shivers down her spine, and the last thing she wanted was to give way to her fantasies. 

“I don’t— I don’t k-know.” 

She could tell that it was the truth, and Jemma knew how difficult recovering days could be. 

“Did something happen, to make you nervous before bed?” 

Fitz bit his lower lip, hesitating. “My m-mum. She talked… the future. It’s s-scary.” 

Jemma realized how scary it must be, indeed. She was willing to bet that Fitz was one of those people who never really had to worry about finding a job, with his PhD and various skills. An injury as important as his, though, changed that. Being fired from Hammer Industries —something he’d told her in their earliest sessions— didn’t help in the slightest when it came to his self-confidence, either.

“I understand how scary it might sound. But for now, Fitz, you need to focus on your recovery. Worrying about the future is only gonna make you step back, and I don’t think that’s what you want at the moment.” 

She could see the way he pursed his lips. “N-no, it’s certainly not.” 

“You’re doing great, you really are. You’re doing marvellous progress, and it hasn’t even been that long. You don’t stumble for your words quite as much anymore, and the occasional stutter is nothing compared to the first weeks. I’m very proud of you, Fitz.” 

A silence followed her declaration, but it wasn’t heavy and filled with uncertainty. She could see Fitz wriggle in his bed a little, and when he slouched against his pillow she was able to see his face a little more clearly. His blue eyes were half hooded and underlined with heavy bags, and Jemma felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and cradle his cheek tenderly. Thank God he wasn’t in front of her at this very moment, because she didn’t know if she could hide the obvious affection tugging at her heart. Idly, she wondered how his stubble would feel against the sensitive skin of her neck if they hugged, and she had to physically shake her head to get those thoughts out of her head. 

“T-thank you, Jemma. I don’t… Sometimes, I f-forget how much you help.”

Her chest swelled. “Fitz, you’re the one doing all the hard work.” 

“S-still. I couldn’t do… couldn’t do half of it without you. I d-don’t think I t-thank you enough for that.” 

When she curled up in bed a little later that night, Jemma’s stomach was still buzzing with glee. She hadn’t felt this way since the last time she’d had a crush on a boy at University, but as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to go to sleep, she tried not to think too much about it. 

* * *

Living with Lance Hunter had its perks, but most importantly its downsides, something Jemma was starting to notice after a full week of cohabitation. For the fourth time in five minutes, she let out a slow, steady breath as she knocked on the bathroom door. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hunter” she gritted through clenched teeth, “I have to leave for work in 10. I still have my makeup to finish!” 

The bathroom door opened a few seconds later, revealing a beaming Hunter. “Oh come on, love. You know you don’t need any makeup to look dashing.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes so hard she could almost feel them at the back of her skull. “Let me through, you idiot.” 

She could feel his eyes following her every move as she applied a thoughtful coat of mascara on her lashes after doing a quick eyeliner wing, applying red lipstick last and smacking her lips together to smear it heavenly. She barely needed any foundation, simply dabbing some concealer under her eyes and finishing off with her brows. Through it all, Hunter stayed silent, only letting out the smallest huff when she threw one last look at herself in the mirror and deemed herself ready enough. 

“So, are you going to work or on a date?” He asked, eyes twitching with amusement. 

Jemma felt her cheeks heat up, but she willed herself to keep on staring at her reflection instead of allowing Hunter the pleasure of savoring his victory. “Shut up. I’m just trying to look decent.” 

“Decent is a little bit of mascara, maybe some concealer. Babes, there’s definitely something you’re not telling me there.” 

Breezing past Hunter who was still leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, Jemma grabbed her bag, keys and travel pass. “If you’re planning on staying here all day, make sure you slam the door on your way out to the pub,” she threw from above her shoulder, opening the front door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Jesus woman, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” 

The ride to the hospital wasn’t very long even with the bus, something Jemma liked about her apartment. After a full day of work, there was nothing as exhausting as riding the subway or bus for hours to get home, and she’d made sure she wouldn't have to when she looked for a place to rent. Her flat in the West end of Glasgow was a little expensive, but she fared pretty well with her salary and could definitely afford it. As soon as she was seated in the bus, Hunter by her side, she knew she wouldn’t be off the hook that easily. 

“You still haven’t told me why you’ve made yourself look so pretty today,” Hunter pointed innocently. 

“Can’t I just look pretty every day?” 

“That’s fair. But I know you love, and I would recognize that look on your face everywhere.” The smile on Hunter’s face fell a little, “I remember it from that night when you called me crying because that daft boy stood you up at prom. You’re obviously interested in someone, and I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

Jemma huffed, immediately defensive. “Maybe you should try fixing things up with your wife before trying to get your nose into my love affairs, uh?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them immediately. Hunter looked hurt, and rightfully so, which led Jemma to reach for his hand where they lay folded on his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She sighed, looking out of the window. “I’m just a little nervous.”

Hunter hummed. “Care to tell me why?” 

Could Jemma tell him about Fitz? About his piercing blue eyes that made her belly flutter and her heart ache so bad she had to resist physically rubbing at her chest to ease the feeling? 

“It’s just.. a patient of mine,” She finally admitted in a sigh. “He’s… He’s a scientist, and a brilliant one that is.” 

“Is he the one you’re making yourself pretty for?” 

“Oh, Hunter. I’m not making myself pretty for anyone.” She countered, frowning a little. And what if she was? There was no correlation between the fact that she’d used her favorite red lipstick and the fact that she had her session with Fitz today, after all. It had only been a while since she’d last put it on. 

“Yeah, whatever you say. So this lad, what is he like?” 

This time, Jemma couldn’t hold back her smile. “He’s brilliant, Hunter. He used to write articles, and his theory on diametric polarization is like nothing else I’ve seen before. You know how much I love science reviews, and he’s actually written for a few of them before he got a job at Hammer Industries back in America.”

“Whatever rocks your boat, you know. You won’t hear no judgement from me,” Hunter smirked. “but physically, what is he like?”

Jemma felt herself blush. “Well… He’s got a beautiful mind.” 

This time, Hunter let out a loud snort, catching the attention of a few people around them. Jemma elbowed him hard on the ribs when a handful of heads turned their way, cutting off his air supply for a short moment. 

“I was fascinated by his mind first,” she gritted through clenched teeth, when the few curious people around them got back to browsing their phones. Hunter could still spot a few people throwing them curious glances, but he kept quiet. “Not that there’s anything wrong with how he looks, obviously. He’s very handsome. A bit pasty, perhaps, but very handsome.” She kept quiet for a few seconds, but Hunter didn’t interrupt her. “His eyes in particular are beautiful, but I have to admit he’s got a beautiful jaw as well. And don’t get me started on his hands, he was an engineer before his accident, you know? He’s got very talented and beautiful hands, no matter how much they shake. I wish he could see that, though.” 

It was only when she caught Hunter’s comically huge eyes staring back at her that Jemma realized she was ranting, coming to a halt abruptly. 

“Uh” he remarked, a sly grin on his face. “So that’s why you put on some lipstick today. I knew there was a reason.” 

The slap against his arm made him laugh out loud. 

* * *

Jemma tried as hard as she could to ignore Hunter’s excitement upon the idea of staying at the hospital for the entire day. She knew he’d probably divide his time between the coffee shop downstairs and her waiting room, but no matter how happy she was to see him after so long without her best friend, one day was plenty enough of him running around her workplace. For the past week, Hunter had walked around Glasgow and visited as much as he could without her as she worked, but he’d decided the day before to, as he put it himself, “experience a day in her shoes”. She’d been able to take the day after off to enjoy some proper time with him, but for now she would have to deal with an overgrown child until she got off work. 

What she wasn’t prepared for though, was the spark of recognition in his eyes the moment Fitz walked in her waiting room. She was on her lunch break just before his appointed slot, lunch break that she’d spent with him at the hospital cafeteria. The moment they came back though, it took about three and a half seconds for Hunter to recognize the patient he was facing. 

“So this is the chap with the big brains,” he muttered against the swell of Jemma’s ear when she opened the door to her office, after asking Fitz to grant her just a couple of minutes to come back from her break. Hunter hadn’t asked, simply walked into her office with her and was now tormenting her as soon as the door was closed behind the two of them. 

“Hunter,” she hissed, “I’m begging you to not be yourself right now.”

“Now that’s a bit mean isn’t it?”

“I’d say necessary.” 

Hunter huffed, fingers playing with the edge of one of the files on her desk. “I’m just saying, he’s cute.”

Jemma resisted the urge to reply to that assent. 

“And he’s also looking at you like you hung up the fucking moon, so I’d say he thinks you’re cute, too.” 

This time however, Jemma squinted at him. “Stop this, he does not. He’s a patient, and he’s simply being polite.” 

It didn’t matter if he did smile a little wider now than he did when he first came to her office for a session. It didn’t matter either that he seemed a little more comfortable being around hers, and feeling her touches whenever she massaged him or put him in correct positions for his physical therapy. There was nothing to read there, no matter how hard she wanted to believe there was. 

“God you’re daft, aren’t you?” Hunter exclaimed, a little more forcefully than he’d probably intended. The crooked eyebrow Jemma gave him in response made him wince. “Sorry. But love, you gotta pull your head out of your arse. That boy is looking at you like you’re the only woman he’s ever seen in his life.” 

This idea sadly didn’t leave Jemma’s mind as she quite physically and literally pushed Hunter out of the door, making way for Fitz to come in. She noticed that, like every other Wednesday, Daisy waited for Daniel to show up with a barely concealed impatience. 

“How are you doing today?” Jemma asked as she and Fitz sat down on the couch, like every week now. She appreciated the fact that he felt comfortable enough making such decisions now, even as small as they were. Jemma had seen the way the hard plastic chairs of her desk had made him uncomfortable the first couple of weeks, and she loved how he carried himself with much more confidence around her now. 

“I’m fine” Fitz replied with a small, secretive smile. On his right side, his hand wasn’t shaking as much as the week before, and her own lips pulled into a smile. 

“Fitz’s, that’s amazing,” she pointed at his limb, noticing the way he blushed a little at the praise. “I was worried about you last week, but look at yourself. You’re doing amazing.”

The end of her sentence only made him blush harder, and she resisted the huge to reach out and wrap him in a hug. Jemma had never been the most touchy person in the world, hating the way most people assumed she had to hug or kiss people out of politeness from her youngest age. But once again, it felt like Fitz was throwing her reservations out of the window by simply existing in her presence. Maybe she could blame it on his soft looking cardigans, she thought half-mindlessly as he nervously played with the sleeve. 

“T-Thank you.” Fitz replied in a whisper, his long lashes caressing his cheeks as he looked down at his lap. “You’re helping a l-lot.” 

It was obvious that his speeches were more eloquent now too, and Jemma couldn’t help but feel a little burst of pride blossom in her chest as she realized she had actually helped him. It was one thing to know that progress wasn’t linear, but another to have real and tangible proof that a patient was actually getting better. 

“Tell me something surprising about yourself.” She suddenly said, immediately wincing at her own bluntness. “To work a little on your speech, yeah?” She added almost shyly, hoping that Fitz couldn’t detect her awkwardness. She blamed Hunter for all of it anyway.

Fitz seemed to think about it for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “I love airports. It’s b-busy, filled with life... I usually... I usually don’t like it. The agitation, the noise,.. But airports always made me feel like... Like the noise in my head wasn’t the loudest.” He scrunched up his nose adorably, “This is a w-weird thing to say, isn’t it?” He asked. 

From where she stood, Jemma hoped he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating inside of her chest. “No, Fitz. I don’t think it’s weird at all.” She simply replied with a small smile. “Feeling good in a noisy and crowded place isn’t as uncommon as you think it is.” 

“B-but I don’t like crowded places, usually. It’s just—”

“Just airports?” 

“Yeah.” He whispered. “I like… I like looking at people there. I like i-i-imagining what… where they are going. I like seeing how they behave, t-too. Seeing the c-children, how their parents act with t-them, how… how the parents act with each— each other, too.” 

There was definitely a story there, something Jemma wanted to ask about so bad. But it wasn’t her place to, so she simply nodded encouragingly. “Do you travel a lot?” 

Fitz hummed. “Used to. I loved… loved it.” His expression shifted from a shy grin to a full one, and Jemma couldn’t help but marvel at how much his face changed when he was happy, something she selflessly wished she could see more often. “I l-loved getting to explore new places. L-loved learning the l-lan—“

“Languages?” 

“Yeah. S-so many different- different sounds. I loved it.” His face turned sour, and he sighed. “But I g-guess I won’t be able t-to, now.” 

Instantly, Jemma reached out to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, Fitz. Look at the progress you’re making today, and look how far you’ve come already. I know it’s hard, and I know it always sounds easy for the people saying this because they’re not the ones having to go through everything you’re going through. But you are doing better” she emphasized, squeezing his shoulder a little. “You are. Remember, progress isn’t linear, and has its ups and downs. I bet so many doctors, nurses and other professionals told you this before and you probably feel like snapping at me now.” 

To his merit, Fitz chuckled a little. 

“A bad day, a bad night filled with nightmares or even a few various things can make you feel like you’ve taken a few steps back in your progress, but it isn’t true. And I’m here to remind you of that, alright?” 

A few nights ago, a little tipsy because of the two pints she’d drank with Hunter at the bar near her flat, she’d had a whole inner monologue on all the things a gaze could express when she’d surprised a man looking straight at her from across the counter. From sadness to pain to pleasure and most importantly desire, she’d forgotten about gratitude. Sitting there with Fitz, her hand on his shoulder and their bodies awfully close as he looked up at her with his beautiful blue eyes, Jemma was hit full face with the force of his emotions. She’d very often seen patients close to tears in the confines of her office, from tears of frustration to tears of happiness, all of them seemed to pale next to the way Fitz looked at her at this very moment. Gratefulness didn’t seem enough of a word to describe the sparks in his baby blue eyes, and she had to turn her head around and break their connexion because she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

“Thank you, Jemma” Fitz whispered, and she could swear she felt herself shiver from head to toes at the raspiness of his voice. She should have gotten used to hearing a good Scottish burr after living in Glasgow for years now, but somehow Fitz seemed to push all of her buttons. Even some she didn’t know she had before, apparently.

“You’re very welcome, Fitz.” She sighed, straightening a little. “Now tell me more. How are things with your mum? Your sister?” 

“G-good. I think… I think my mum g-gets it, now. G-gets that… t-there are bad days, but good ones, too. She i-isn’t that p-p-pushy anymore.” 

“That’s good!” Jemma exclaimed, not even faking her enthusiasm. “Have you tried talking to her about the thing you confessed to me last week?” When he threw her a confused glance, she specified, “about people treating you like you’re broken? and talk to you like they’re standing on eggshells? I think it will be a good thing, to be able to talk to them about that. I don’t think they’re doing it consciously, but pointing it out might help them be a little more aware of their behavior around you.” 

Fitz shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t— I don’t know.” 

“It’s your call, Fitz. But I believe communication is always a good thing, and you seem to be getting very good at it lately. Those people love you, and I think they will do anything they can to make you feel more comfortable.” She teased, tilting her head a little to the side in confusion when he huffed. “You don’t believe me?” 

Fitz wriggled on the couch, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s just… I like— I like using m-metaphors. To describe things.” He explained. His eyes fell on the arm of the couch, fingers immediately reaching out to play with the fabric. 

Jemma hummed. “And you don’t think people understand them? Maybe you can talk me through one of your metaphors, then?” 

Fitz seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, fingers stilling their course on the pattern he was drawing. “It’s not— not that. J-just… people are like… relationships are like tattoos, in a w-way.” He said in a small voice. “You c-chose them, and they leave a m-m-mark on you. B-but eventually, you can come to regret some of them.” 

“Do you?” Jemma asked. “Regret some of them, I mean.” 

“Yeah.” The words were out of his mouth before he even properly thought about it, and it seemed to surprise him just as much as it startled Jemma. “I t-tend to give my… I trust too easily,” he finished lamely. 

“I don’t think that’s a flaw in itself. You're a genuine person, Fitz, and I can see that. You’ve got a beautiful heart, and that’s something to be proud of.” 

Her words seemed to hit him right in the chest, and Fitz’s face contorted in a painful grimace. For a second, Jemma wondered if she’d pushed him a little too far, but he interrupted her the moment she opened her mouth to apologize. 

“T-thank you.” He simply said, lips trembling a little. “I… you’re the f-first person w-who thinks so.” 

Jemma immediately shook her head vehemently. “I don’t think that’s true, Fitz. I think your sister, and your mother at least, think so. You just haven’t confessed any of that to them, that’s all.”

“Perhaps. It’s… T-that’s because I l-like talking to you. You make me feel like… L-like I can tell y-you anything. It feels good.” Fitz confessed, digging his slightly shaky thumb into the palm of his other hand, something Jemma recognized as a nervous tick from their first few sessions.

Logically, his words shouldn’t have had such an effect on her. But there was no denying the butterflies that seemed to spread their wings at the bottom of her stomach at his confession. She had no idea how to reply to that, though. Jemma felt like the line between professional advice and personal beliefs had been crossed a few weeks ago when it came to Leopold Fitz, and she had no idea if anything that came out of her mouth now emerged from her aching heart or mind. 

“I’m glad to hear that” she simply replied, her warm smile never faltering. She had no idea if she could actually stop grinning, not when Fitz looked at her like that. Jemma had had her fair share of boyfriends through high school, college and even during her adult life, but she didn’t remember any of them looking at her  _ quite _ like that. There was an intensity to Fitz’s deep blue eyes that she couldn’t take her eyes off, and it was only when he choked on his saliva a little that the silence that had been installed between them was broken. 

Taking a deep breath, Jemma jumped up before she could find herself in another deeply unprofessional situation. When she blamed Hunter for putting doubts in her mind before her session with him, she knew deep down that he had nothing to do with the way her cheeks heated up around Fitz. 

“Alright” she said, a little too cheerfully to be genuine. If Fitz noticed, he didn’t say a single thing. “How about working on your writing a little, uh?” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he walked out of Jemma’s office, Fitz felt like his heart was so light it could fly right out of his chest. The extent of his crush was getting a little ridiculous, if he was completely honest with himself. 
> 
> In the waiting room, Daisy was discussing with Daniel, and the English lad from earlier was watching them interact with barely disguised interest. Fitz didn’t know what to do with this new person, especially since Jemma seemed to know him quite personally, and well. 
> 
> “Hunter,” she chastised him, “don’t you have something else to do than bother my patients?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!   
> Blimey, it's already time for the 4th chapter of this adventure. This one is slightly smaller than the ones I have posted before, so I apologize for that in advance. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments on the previous chapters of this fic. I'm so glad to know you like it so far, and I hope you will like the rest of it just as much!!
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments!! xx

When he walked out of Jemma’s office, Fitz felt like his heart was so light it could fly right out of his chest. His hand ached a little after writing and flexing it for the better part of the hour, but he’d been able to see the progress he’d made as well. His mum had told him to celebrate the smallest steps the day before, and the way his words didn’t seem as shaky as a few weeks before as he’d laid them down on paper was a victory in itself. It didn’t hurt that Jemma had been particularly proud of him too. 

The extent of his crush was getting a little ridiculous, if he was completely honest with himself. The mere idea of seeing her smile made his heart clench almost painfully in his chest, and there was no way to ignore the way his palms got sweaty every time he looked at her. Fitz didn’t remember ever having such strong feelings for someone before, but he had never been the most outgoing when it came to personal relationships. He’d had a few flings here and there in College, mostly because Daisy set him up on ridiculous double dates, but he’d never felt anything remotely resembling to what he felt for Jemma. Which was a problem, because she was his doctor, and had a super hot boyfriend. 

The thought of Trip made the smile fall right out of his face. In the waiting room, Daisy was discussing with Daniel —as always when she was waiting for him, Fitz had long realized that driving him to the hospital was more of an excuse to see him than anything else but he didn’t mind in the slightest— and the English lad from earlier was watching them interact with barely disguised interest. Fitz didn’t know what to do with this new person, especially since Jemma seemed to know him quite personally, and well. He could see her rolling her eyes at him when she walked out of her own office right after him, and she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Hunter,” she chastised him, “don’t you have something else to do than bother my patients?” 

The man —Hunter, Fitz thought— immediately smiled up at Jemma. “Well love, I told you I’d be around for the entire day. I’m merely observing the people you work with, that’s all.” 

Daisy seemed amused, something Fitz took as a good sign. There was no hiding Daisy’s moods when it came to others, and her dislike for people was very often written on her face when they happened to be around. “It’s fine, Doctor Simmons,” she said, smiling shyly at Daniel as she did so. “We talked a little, Hunter and Daniel actually have a lot in common.” 

Fitz raised an eyebrow skeptically. 

“Well Daniel” Jemma said, “If you will follow me? I’m sorry I’m a bit late, Fitz and I were making great progress today and I lost track of time a little.”

She threw him a blinding smile, that Fitz reciprocated by automatism. God, she was breathtaking. 

It was only when Daniel disappeared with her in her office and Daisy threw him one of those looks he knew but too well that Fitz realized what it meant. “No,” he immediately countered, Hunter jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice. Fitz could see him look between the two of them in confusion. “I’m n-not waiting for— I’m not waiting around again,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. He wasn’t used to talking in front of strangers anymore, and he felt like he was making a fool of himself in front of Jemma’s friend. Just what he needed. 

“It’s only for a few hours” Daisy begged, her eyes turning sad. “I’m sorry, you know I’d drive you back before if I could but mum is gonna ask questions and wonder why I’m going back and I’m not ready to talk about Daniel yet. I don’t even know…” she trailed off, hesitant. “I don’t even know where this is going, and I don’t want to jinx it.”

And Fitz couldn’t blame her, he really couldn’t. But his hand ached, and his head was beginning to throb, and all he wanted to do was to get home and stay in his bed relaxing quietly for a little while. 

“What’s going on exactly?” Hunter eventually asked, when the silence between Fitz and Daisy seemed to stretch on forever. He’d straightened up a little, hands still deep in his pockets as he balanced his body forward. 

“D-Daisy wants to stay here” Fitz sighed, pressing his aching thumb against his temple. “Wait for Daniel. I’m not— I w-want—“

“You wanna get out of this place,” Hunter finished for him. Fitz was surprised to realize he didn’t mind, most probably because Hunter didn’t seem like he was phased in the slightest by his stutter, and because he could see a spark of sympathy in the other man’s eyes. “Hey, I get you mate. You’ve just spent an hour doing physical therapy, the last thing you want is to stay at the hospital. Do you live far from here?” 

Daisy frowned. “Too far to go home by himself if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“How about waiting somewhere else then? Surely, there are other places than the lousy coffee shop downstairs. Maybe a pub, somewhere around?” 

Fitz hesitated. On one hand, it had been a while since he’d last went to a pub, and he had missed drinking a good pint like the true Scot he was. On the other hand, he was a little too tired to properly enjoy it, and he didn’t feel like going there alone anyway. Especially not with a shaky aching hand and a stutter. 

“I can come with,” Hunter insisted, looking incredibly excited by the idea. “I mean, if you want. I wouldn’t say no to a good pint, and you look like you need one. No offense,” he added, probably for good measure, holding his hands out. 

Daisy frowned. “I don’t know if—“

“Yes.” Fitz countered immediately. He had no idea where he’d pulled that confidence from, but he was surprised to realize he didn’t regret the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Next to him, Hunter beamed, and he got up in one swift movement.

“Alright then. Shall we?” 

“Fitz, are you sure?” Daisy insisted, getting up as well to grab her brother’s arm. “You don’t have to, you know?” 

“I’m not a c-child, Daisy.” Fitz sighed, looking at her in the eyes. “I’m s-sure. Promise. Just… Text me when you’re d-done with Daniel, yeah?” 

Although she didn’t seem to be completely comfortable with the idea, Daisy let him go with a curt nod. Walking out of the hospital with a total stranger wasn’t the way Fitz had imagined his day to end, but the soft thrill of excitement at the idea of doing something unexpected of him for once in his life was definitely worth it. 

The first bar they stumbled upon was almost empty, which wasn’t at all surprising considering the fact that it was barely 3 in the afternoon. A couple of people were seated at the tables inside, but Fitz and Hunter immediately sat at one corner of the bar. Once two full pints were pushed towards them, Hunter was the first to break the silence that had been installed between them since they’d walked out of the hospital. 

“So, mate. I realize I don’t even know your name.” 

Something told Fitz this wasn’t entirely true, but he still politely replied. “F-Fitz.” 

“Nice to meet you, Fitz. I’m Hunter, in case you didn’t know already.” He took a big sip out of his pint, letting out a barely disguised moan as he slammed it back against the bar. “God, I’ve missed those. They don’t make them quite as well in America.”

Fitz huffed. “Y-yeah, that’s an understatement.” 

“You’ve lived in the States too, uh?” 

“Y-yeah. Before… Well. Before.” 

He didn’t really need to clarify what he meant by that, because Hunter made a small “ _ ah _ ” of realization. “Well,” he said as Fitz took a small sip out of his pint as well, “cheers to a good one then.” 

They drank in silence for a little while, and this time it was Fitz’s turn to break it with a curious question. “So w-why are you— here? You’re one of J-Jemma’s pa-patient’s, too?” 

Hunter immediately shook his head. “Nah, mate. I’m one of her oldest friends, actually. We used to live side by side when we were teenagers, back in Sheffield.” 

So that explained the way Jemma had rolled her eyes at him several times in the few minutes he’d seen them interact, Fitz thought with a small, secretive smile. She’d seemed at ease with him in a way he hadn’t seen her act with anyone else before, and a weight he hadn’t realized had been there lifted off his chest. From the corner of his eyes, Hunter was looking at him with a barely concealed smirk. 

“So” he said, dragging the vowel for an unnecessary long time. “You and Jemma, uh? I have to admit. She’s cute, not that I’d ever look at her that way.” He grimaced, shaking his head before taking a long sip of pint. “She’s more of a sister to me, you know? But anyway, I’m not here to talk about my relationship with her. I’m here to ask you about your intentions, or whatever.” 

Fitz had felt himself flush all the way down his neck as Hunter spoke, and he was seconds away from running away in the opposite direction by the time the other man finally stopped talking. 

“I d-don’t… Jemma’s not…” he tried, finding that his stutter was made even worse under pressure. Immediately, his hand tightened on his glass and he felt humiliation creep at the back of his neck. 

“Hey, man,” Hunter said, his voice a little lower than before. Fitz found it easier to concentrate on it as he tried to take a deep breath, willing his body to calm down a little and his heart rate to come back to normal. “Breathe, alright? I’m just teasing ya.” 

“I don’t— Jemma has a boyfriend” Fitz blurted out instead. 

Hunter’s reaction, however, was not the one he’d been expecting. 

“What?” He said, frowning. “Nah she doesn’t. I’m pretty sure, because first of all she would have told me, and second she totally admitted she had like, the biggest crush on you or whatever.”

Fitz felt his entire brain blank out for a few seconds at that confession, his limbs going numb as he stared at Hunter with wide eyes. “Wha—? But… T-Trip.” He tried again, voice weaker that he would have liked. 

"Wait, you think the two of them....? Oh God, mate. No. Trip flirts with like, everything. He's probably flirted with you.”

At this, Fitz opened his mouth in surprise, but no sound came out of it. Was Trip flirting, back in the staircase before his first ever appointment with Jemma? The memory of a gentle smile and a teasing wink came back to his mind, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. Bloody Scottish complexion. 

“Ohhh.” Hunter teased, raising an eyebrow comically high. “Well, something tells me you wouldn't mind that much, if you weren't totally in love with Jemma”

“I'm not... I’m n-not in love with Jemma" Fitz countered weakly. This entire conversation was confusing, and the headache he’d felt creeping behind his temples a little earlier was definitely making a comeback. However, a small part of him clung desperately to the idea that, maybe, just maybe… Hunter might be right. But there was no way—

"Hey, it's alright mate.” Hunter kept going, “I ain't gonna tell. It's not like you're hiding it well, anyway. No offense.” He stared down at his pint, frowning a little before looking up at Fitz again. “And if you think she's not completely into you, too, then you're dafter than I thought.”

Fitz shook his head again, this time a little harder. 

"She... W-wouldn't. I’m—me.” 

Hunter rolled his eyes. ”Oh that's bullshit. Maybe you  _ are _ a bit daft, after all.” 

On his way to the pub with a perfect stranger, Fitz hadn’t imagined he’d get insulted quite as much as he had in the last few minutes. But then again, he hadn’t pictured his evening turning out like this either, so nothing was surprising anymore. 

“Hey!”

“Well I’m just saying! You should see the way she looks at your arse.”

Fitz squinted. “M-my arse?” 

“I believe the correct term she used was ‘perfect Scottish backside’, but I’m not entirely sure. I was a bit drunk you see, but then again so was she.” Stopping short in the middle of his sentence, Hunter threw a panicked glance at Fitz. “Please don’t ever tell her I told you that because she’d have my head. I have enough of my wife as it is.” 

Fitz’s eyes were immediately drawn to his ring finger. “Wait… you’re m-married?” 

The grimace Hunter offered was enough to peak Fitz’s curiosity. “Yeah, I am. She’s… well. She’s in America, at the moment.” 

“You look d-delighted.” 

Hunter sighed. “No, mate, I mean… Bobbi’s the love of my life, you know? It’s just… Sometimes we don’t see eye to eye on some things, that’s all.” 

Fitz hummed. He had no real experience in long term relationships, but he’d seen first hand how difficult they could be. When his father had never been a good example, Fitz had seen the few past relationships Daisy had had and witnessed a few of his colleagues’ love debacles (and sometimes, affairs). He had always been a little scared of relationships in itself, something he very rarely talked about. Fitz was in his late twenties and never had fallen deeply in love with someone, the kind of love that would make him ache in the chest and count the hours he’d spent separated from his other half. Being in a relationship without experiencing those kinds of feelings felt impossible and uninteresting, and it was simply too personal to put it into words for people. Which was the reason why he never really bothered, simply insisting on the fact that he liked being alone anyway. His relationships —or therefore lack of— were his own.

“Are you guys… breaking up?” Fitz simply offered, feeling a little weird for asking. He hadn’t known Hunter for a very long time, but somehow it felt like asking him about his relationship with his wife wasn’t the kind of thing that would put him off. 

“What? No. No we’re not breaking up!” Hunter immediately scoffed. Fitz did not miss the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed with difficulty. “It’s just… complicated.”

Fitz nodded. “In m-my experience” he said, tracing the rim of his glass with a surprisingly steady finger “c-c-complicated is often a c-code name for something you’re n-not admitting to yourself, or others.” 

Hunter turned his head to look at him, not even hiding his surprise this time. 

“Well, ya do bite a little when you’re pushed don’t you?” 

“I’m not biting anything you arse, I’m j-just saying. Maybe you’re m-making it more complicated than it truly is.” 

Silence followed his declaration. For a moment, Fitz wondered if he’d pushed too far, but then Hunter spoke again. 

“Bob’s pregnant” he whispered, eyes fixated on his now half empty pint. 

It felt like a cold bucket of water had just been dropped on Fitz’s shoulders as he stared, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Hadn’t Hunter told him a little earlier that his wife was still in America? 

“Wha—?” He asked almost as a knee-jerk reaction. 

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Hunter sighed again. “Bobbi’s pregnant. That’s why I left, actually.” 

Fitz could barely hear anything over the loud buzzing in his ears. Suddenly, he was taken back to his ten years old self hearing his father leave for the last time in the middle of the night, without a glance back or even a goodbye. He was taken back to the moment his mum had opened the door to reveal another child that was just as lost as he’d been for years, wondering why he’d never been good enough for his father to stay. It had taken him years and a handful of therapy sessions, but Fitz eventually came to realize that he was not to blame for his father’s departure. He couldn’t, however, fathom the idea of ever leaving his child. Not after all he’d been through, after all he and Daisy had been through together, after the nights of self doubts and tears crushed against a soaking pillow.

“You left your pregnant wife and ran halfway a-across the world?” He eventually asked, barely even able to disguise his anger and judgement. 

Hunter seemed just as taken aback by his reaction, because he looked up from his beer and stared at him in amazement. “Well. Yeah, although that’s not really how I’d put it—“ 

“But that’s exactly what you did. You realized your wife was c-carrying your child and you ran away like a coward.” There was no stopping him once he’d started talking, something Hunter and him most likely realized at the same time. Fitz’s fists were clenched in anger, and he had to let go of his glass not to hurt himself. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but the last time I ch-checked, it took two people to make a baby. Unless you didn’t have the balls to do that yourself, either?” 

“Now wait a damn minute—“

Fitz didn’t let Hunter finish, raising his hand immediately. “No  _ you _ wait a fucking minute. I guess no one had the guts to tell you that yet, but you’re a bloody coward, and there’s no single e-excuse you can give me that’ll excuse the way you acted.” Shaking his head in anger, Fitz kept going. “I get not wanting a child, I do. But what I don’t get is running away without turning back and letting your p-pregnant wife behind. Is that the kind of man you want to be in your child’s mind? The kind of man who left without a glance b-back, incapable of assuming anything, the kind of man who will be the villain in all of your future child’s stories?” 

Upon Hunter’s shocked silence, Fitz took the liberty to keep talking. It felt good, awfully so, to simply let go and let his anger speak for him. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to think about how he hadn’t once stuttered during his tirade, too focused on the raging feeling inside of him. 

“I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of r-relationship,” he said, never once letting go of Hunter’s gaze. “I’ve been the child without a father, the child left behind, the one without a dad who was looked upon during the parent's teachers meeting. And if you want to be that kind of person to your child, then maybe you don’t deserve to have one in the first p-place.” 

By the time he was done talking, Fitz was shaking from head to toes. 

“Are you okay mate?” Were the first words out of Hunter’s mouth, as he took in Fitz’s state. 

He reached out, trying to put a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder, but Fitz was quick to pull back. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t you dare change the subject” he snapped. 

“Hey, now don’t you dare lecture me like that,” Hunter replied. “You have no idea the kind of responsibility a child will entail. I’m not that kind of guy, okay? I can’t give a child a white picket fence and a beautiful house with a garden and two dogs. I’m barely able to keep a job for a few months, I don’t even know how to take care of myself properly.”

“So you think running away was your only option? Oh yeah, very m-mature.” 

“It’s not like Bobbi needed me anyway. She made that clear when we first talked,” Hunter whispered, swallowing the last few drops of his pint. His lips were pursed, but his eyes sad. Fitz didn’t pretend to know a lot about their relationship, because it wasn’t the case, but he could at least see how much Hunter cared for his wife.

Fitz sighed. His anger was slowly but surely diminishing, and tiredness replaced it. “You l-left, Hunter. She’s pregnant, probably scared and c-confused because she’s, you know, growing a human inside of her?” 

Hunter looked at him again, this time with a guilty frown.”I know.” He whispered. “I knew from the moment I stepped foot into that fucking plane that it was bad idea, but I did it anyway, because I needed some time to think about it. Thing is, Bobbi… she makes me go bonkers, mate. In a good way, but also in a very, very bad way sometimes. We fight a lot, you know? I can’t even count the number of times we’ve almost broken up for the stupidest things. Throwing a baby into the mix…” he trailed off, singing again. His eyes dropped to his pint.

“M-maybe that’s not something you need to discuss with me” Fitz eventually said. “I hear you, b-but you need to man up and— talk to her. R-r-running away from things isn’t gonna solve anything.” 

Hunter snuck him another look. They stayed silent for a little while, and Fitz felt like he was being analyzed like a lab specimen, squirming under his gaze. All the confidence he’d mustered a few minutes ago was gone entirely, and he now felt like a child about to be lectured. 

“Perhaps” Hunter said finally, “but for now, I just want to finish my fucking pint.” 

* * *

Jemma was not pacing. 

Or maybe she was, but it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d found out that Hunter had taken Fitz to the pub during her appointment with Daniel Sousa. 

After all, she had nothing to fear from that afternoon, right? With all the things she held against him, including that time he’d ended up drunk and naked in her bathtub during their senior year, Hunter wouldn’t reveal sensible information to the man she might have a small —tiny, really— crush on. Especially if said man was her patient, and if he knew how delicate the position she was in could be if he opened his big mouth. Lance Hunter was a walking disaster, but he was far from stupid. 

Sighing in defeat, Jemma fell back against the back of her couch. She  _ was _ pacing, had been for the past half an hour, and it  _ was _ solely due to the knowledge that Hunter still wasn’t home yet. She’d try to work a little, then to read, then finally to watch a movie she’d seen numerous times before, but nothing seemed to quieten her mind. 

When the sound of keys unlocking the door finally echoed in the flat a few minutes later, Jemma immediately jumped on her feet and rushed to the door.

“Hunter” she said breathlessly, taking him in. 

He looked wasted, something that wasn’t surprising in itself. He’d been at the bar for the better part of the afternoon, and she was willing to bet he didn’t nurse the same beer all the while. The lazy smile stretching his lips as he looked at her made her breath quicken, though. She recognized his playful face, and it was never a good sign. 

“Hey Jem,” he said, closing the door behind him and leaning against it with a  _ ‘oof’ _ . “I’m home!”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. Where were you? It’s almost 10pm.” 

“Oh come on, love. It’s not like we haven’t done worse back in the days, just the two of us.” 

Back in the days, Jemma thought, Hunter didn’t hang out with her patients slash dreamed boyfriends. She kept it to herself though, pulling at his hand until he followed her towards the living room obediently. 

“I remember you being nicer with me when I was drunk, too!” he remarked, sitting down on the couch with a smirk. He propped his legs on the coffee table with a sigh. “Don’t you wanna know how my evening went?” 

He knew she was dying to know, which was something Jemma immediately hated. There were a few things in life Jemma absolutely arbored, and not being in control was one of them. “How was your evening, Hunter?” She eventually asked, forcing herself to take a few calming breaths. 

“Oh, it was fine. Your boyfriend was a lot, surprisingly enough. He’s got his temper, let me tell you, a true Scotsman. But I can see why you like him.” 

“What do you mean a lot?” She immediately countered, putting her hands on her hips. When she looked up at him, he seemed lost in his thoughts, eyes glassy and unfocused. “And he’s not my  _ boyfriend _ .” 

Hunter smirked. “He’s not your boyfriend… yet.” 

“Oh fuck off, Hunter.” 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say now is it?” 

There was no arguing with Hunter when he was drunk, so Jemma only exhaled slowly through her nose, willing herself to calm down. There was no reason to panic over things that were done, and all she could do was hope that Hunter hadn’t told Fitz embarrassing things that would definitely compromise their professional relationship.

“Oh don’t you look at me like that” Hunter rolled his eyes. “We talked about various things, not all of them being you. I behaved, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

“Weirdly, that doesn’t comfort me.” 

She sighed, pushing his legs off the coffee table with her knees to squeeze her body between his and the arm of the couch. Hunter reached for her hand, resting his warm palm on her knee once he’d squeezed it reassuringly. 

“He’s a good lad. I can see why you like him.” 

Jemma felt her cheeks heat up. She nudged him with her elbow. “Stop saying that.”

“Well you do, don’t you? Like him, I mean. Because he for sure likes you.” Jemma opened her mouth to reply, finding that she had nothing to say to that. All she could do was gape at him, wondering what he meant by that. Unaware of what he’d started, Hunter kept on rambling. “’t was very sweet to see how much he blushed when I mentioned you. Can you believe he thought you were dating Trip?” He scoffed. 

“He thought I was… what?” 

“I know!” Hunter threw his hands up. “I wonder if that’s the reason why he didn’t try to lure you before. But don’t worry, I set the records straight. He now knows you’re single, and would very much like to look under his metaphorical kilt.”

“You did  _ what _ ?!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem with being a little brother, as Daisy liked to point out, was the fact that Fitz found himself dragged to the shopping centre under the most ridiculous pretenses. Today’s was the fact that Daisy needed a new dress, and Fitz had barely repressed the need to tell her that she did not, in fact, need it as it was the middle of October in Glasgow. He knew better than to try persuading her (mostly because it never worked).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Annndd here comes chapter 5. This one is very special to me, because I had SO much fun writing the little fitzdaisy moments, and I hope you will like them as much as I liked writing them. 
> 
> I also feel the need to emphasize once more that I am **not** in any case a medical professional, and I apologize in advance if any actual med students/physiotherapists happen to stumble upon this fiction, and this precise chapter. The discussion around prosthetics was written with the help of several phd thesis I tried to understand as best as I could and coupled with a few dialogues from the show itself regarding Yoyo's arms. I hope it will not be too catastrophic….. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments on this fic. I'm so incredibly happy to know you like it so far, and I hope you will like the rest of it as well!!
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, as I always look forward to hearing from you in the comment section!! xx

The problem with being a little brother, as Daisy liked to point out, was the fact that Fitz found himself dragged to the shopping centre under the most ridiculous pretenses. Today’s was the fact that Daisy needed a new dress, and Fitz had barely repressed the need to tell her that she did not, in fact, need it as it was the middle of October in Glasgow. He knew better than to try persuading her (mostly because it never worked).

However, a fun (as Daisy put it) afternoon shopping had quickly turned into an interrogation on the state of Fit’s love life, or therefore lack of. After stopping at Starbucks to buy an overpriced coffee with way too much sugar in it, Daisy had decided she needed a new pair of jeans as well, and stopped at Levi’s. Which was how he’d ended up seated in front of the fitting rooms, holding her coffee and keeping her bag as she wriggled into her fourth pair so far. 

“I’m just saying” she half yelled from behind the curtain, making him wince. Everyone around them and their cousins probably knew about his childish crush on his physiotherapist by now. “You should talk to her. And I mean, properly talk to her, as in ‘can I ask you on a date’ kind of talk.”

“I don’t know, Daisy…”

She opened the changing room curtain in one swift movement, revealing her new attire. She looked good, as always, but he’d been banned from saying so after he’d told her she looked beautiful one too many times a couple of hours before. _“How am I supposed to find something that’ll fit me if you keep telling me everything looks good? Men, I swear.”_

“Yes you do!’ She insisted, turning on herself to look at the pants from every angle. She made a face Fitz couldn’t quite decipher, before holding her hand out for her coffee. Fitz gave it to her obediently. ”And if you’re not ready to ask her for a date yet, start out with small things, you know? Like what’s her favorite Doctor Who, or whatever. She’s British, I’m sure she likes the show.”

She took a sip out of her monstrous drink, before shoving the plastic cup back into his hands.

“J-just Doctor” Fitz grumbled. “I can’t believe you’re still c-calling him ‘ _Doctor Who_ ’ after living in Scotland for years. You’re a heathen. I don’t know why I’m even talking to you.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too. Now don’t you change the subject.”

“I’m not c-changing anything, I’m stating facts. Also just be-because she’s British doesn’t mean she watches Doctor Who, we t-t-talked about it before.” 

“Sure, whatever. How does my ass look in this one? I feel like it’s better than the one before.” 

Fitz narrowed his eyes. “Uh. It’s fine, I guess?” 

“Fitz! You cannot say that to everything I ever put on.”

“But it d-does look good!” He countered with a pout. 

“God, I’m gonna have to teach you how to act with girls when they go shopping, because there’s no way any girlfriend of yours is gonna love hearing the same thing over and over again when she takes you shopping.” 

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “I d-don’t have a girlfriend.”

“And?” Daisy said, crossing her arms over her chest. Not too far from her, the vendor hesitated, not entirely picking up on her mood. A quick look at Fitz’s face seemed to decide him though, as he turned around quickly and walked back towards the entrance of the shop to busy himself with something. “You’re gonna have one soon, it doesn’t matter.” 

“It d-does” Fitz grumbled, closing his mouth shut when Daisy threw him a heated glare. 

Snatching her drink from his hands once again, Daisy made a face when she realized that her coffee was now almost finished, her straw barely even useful to catch the last few drops of it at the bottom of the plastic cup. Fitz wrinkled his nose as she noisily sucked on it, staring at the few people around that looked their way with defiance. 

“What I’m saying is, I've never seen you look at anyone the way you're looking at her. And she's gorgeous, I'll admit that at least, but that's not everything is it?" 

“She's p-perfect” Fitz replied lamely, his cheeks heating up immediately. “She's smart, beautiful, in-interesting to talk to. She's never gonna be interested in me.”

“Now don’t you sell yourself short like this” Daisy interrupted, pointing a finger at his face. “You’re amazing, and I’m not only saying this because you’re my brother.” 

Fitz huffed. 

“I’m serious! You’re cute, maybe a bit pasty but that’s your Scottish complexion. You’ve got pretty eyes, a killer accent, you’re romantic. And I’m not even talking about your ass, because I’m a bit jealous I didn’t get this side of the genes and I have to actually work for it. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” 

Fitz barely bit back another scoff, knowing he’d get another earful. The last thing he needed was for Daisy to dote over him once more, and this conversation was already much more than he’d been comfortable with. “What about Daniel?” he asked instead, feeling his lips stretch into a wide smile when Daisy’s cheeks turned pink. 

“Who do you think I’m shopping for?” she eventually said, chuckling when Fitz let out a yelp of surprise. “He’s wonderful, Fitz. He’s so… I don’t know. He’s both very old fashioned but incredibly feminist, and I had no idea men like this existed anymore. He even pulled out my chair the other day when we went to grab a coffee, who said chivalry was dead?” 

To see his sister so excited about something, especially a relationship, warmed Fitz’s heart. If anyone in the world deserved to be happy, it was her, and he was incredibly happy for her. 

“He’s American, isn’t he?”

Daisy nodded. She disappeared inside the changing room again, her voice muffled by the thick curtain. “Yeah, he is. He was in Glasgow for a work meeting when he had an accident, which explains why he wasn’t able to go back to New York for now. He says your girlfriend is amazing, and helped him a lot.”

Fitz resisted the urge to groan at Daisy’s choice of words once more. 

“New York City?” he asked. “What a coincidence. Isn’t it where you wanted to move in, eventually?” 

Daisy reappeared, this time after putting back her old worn out jeans. She waved at the vendor, indicating that she would buy the one she’d just tried on. 

“Yeah, it’s crazy right? Daniel said he would probably be able to go back in a couple of weeks, which is why I’m not wasting any time.” She winked at him as they moved to the front of the shop, following the vendor as he took off the anti-theft device from the jeans and put them in a small plastic bag. Daisy paid, thanking the vendor, and they walked out of the shop and into the huge mall again. Fitz wrinkled his nose as the buzzing of the crowd reached his ears once more, but Daisy tugged at his hand with insistence. “Come on, let’s get you something to wear for your next appointment with Doctor Doctor Jemma.” 

“Daisy, no—” 

“Don’t you _‘Daisy no’_ me, Leopold Fitz. This girl is already halfway in love with you, and you’re gonna make the other half happen.” 

Fitz had half the mind to groan in protest as she walked them towards the other end of the shopping center once more. It wasn’t that he hated going shopping with Daisy —he quite liked it, actually, even though he’d never tell her— but she tended to get quite excited at the idea of dolling him up from head to toes, something that made him squirm under the attention. He’d never been the most confident man in the world, and Daisy liked to insist on him walking around like he was a supermodel of some sort. 

“I don’t t-t-think a few more clothes are gonna h-help anyway,” he eventually muttered. 

“That’s what you think. But as a woman, I can tell you: we do pay attention to those sorts of things.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with the— the clothes I have a-at home!” 

Daisy rolled her eyes. “No there isn’t, but she’s already seen you wearing those. I think we can do more, especially with that ass of yours.”

“What’s w-with you and m-my arse!” Fitz exclaimed, blushing from head to toes when a group of women passing by chuckled at his exclamation. “I swear it’s not that… that special.” 

Daisy sighed, loudly. Fitz felt like she was two seconds away from stomping her foot on the floor like a child. “Trust me. Once again, I know how women think.” 

There was no escaping Daisy when she had her mind set on something, and he knew it. With a scoff, he followed her diligently. However, as they walked towards Xile —Fitz knew his sister by heart sometimes— the lights coming from the Swarovski store caught his eyes. The new 125th anniversary collection was beautiful, something that he rarely dwelled on. He’d never been one to look at jewelry, mostly because he’d never had anyone to buy them for, except his mum. But looking at the beautiful necklaces on display, Fitz couldn’t help but wonder how gorgeous Jemma would look with one of them around her gorgeous neck. 

“Eyes on the prize, I like this” Daisy whispered against his ear, making him jump in surprise. “Although I still think that finding a new pair of pants and some shirts might be more productive than a ring at the moment.”

Fitz felt himself flush. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t l-looking at the r-rings!”

“Sure, little brother. Sure.” 

Fortunately for him, Xile wasn’t too far from Swarovski and Fitz was saved from being teased even further as Daisy’s eyes lit up. He’d never really shopped this brand, but he trusted Daisy and her impeccable tastes. Not that he’d tell her, once again. 

“I don’t t-think I need all of t-that” he pointed out when Daisy started rummaging through the shop, politely ignoring the vendors and walking around with a smile on her face. Her arms were already filled with various jeans, shirts and other accessories Fitz might not even have looked at if he’d walked in there alone. 

“You do, you just don’t know it yet.” 

“D-Daisy… I don’t know if I— I’ll be able to—”

Sensing his discomfort, she stopped walking and turned towards him. “I’ll help you out, don’t worry. And if anyone’s opposed to that,” she said as she threw a gaze above her shoulder, catching one of the vendors hovering near, “we’re walking right out of there. Deal?” 

Fitz had no choice but to accept, defeated. Funnily enough, getting help from Daisy as he tried on a few shirts —he refused her help for the pants, though— didn’t feel as much of a burden as before. Without really thinking about it, Fitz reached out to grab his cell phone from his back pocket and opened the message app as Daisy fiddled with the neckline of the shirt he’d put on. 

> To: Jemma

_hello, jemma. you asked me to tell you if things ever got easier, and I hope I’m not overstepping here. I’ve been shopping with daisy, and I haven’t felt as awful as I could have before when she helped me get dressed. I think this can count as a win. x_

Typing away on the screen had made Fitz realize that it had been awhile since he’d last texted someone. His fingers were a little shaky over the keyboard and he had to delete some typos several times, but he found that he’d typed most of the message out of habit. He had made a special effort in typing the entire message out, something he rarely did nowadays. But since Jemma had given him her number for a strictly professional use, fully typed sentences were in order, and he’d tried to sound as neutral as possible. She’d never told him anything about how he’d expressed himself in the handful of texts they had exchanged beforehand (one to confirm her planning change, and the other one to ask him if he felt better after the night he’d called her), anyway. 

“Who are you texting?” Daisy asked almost as soon as he pressed the ‘send’ button, making him roll his eyes. 

“None of y-your business.” 

“Wow, that’s cold. Ice cold.” 

Fitz pocketed his phone again. “You’ll live.” 

Daisy pursed her lips, sticking out her tongue as she stepped back a little and gave him a pleased look. “You look amazing! I knew this was definitely your color. I love your blue shirts, but it’s time for a little change.” 

The shirt she’d chosen was dark green, something Fitz rarely wore. He had to admit though, as he turned on himself and looked at the length of his body in the changing room mirror, it did look good. It complimented his skin tone in a way blue didn’t quite manage, and it did feel like a brand new thing for him to wear. Just as he was about to open his mouth to give in to Daisy’s insistent looks, his phone vibrated in his pocket. 

> From: Jemma

_Hello Fitz. I’m glad to hear that! I’m also glad to know that you’re going shopping with Daisy, I know going out isn’t always easy for you. I hope you’re having fun, I cannot wait to see the things you’ve bought next wednesday :)_

“What are you smiling at?” 

Fitz looked up just in time for Daisy to snatch his phone from his hands. 

“Daisy! G-give it back!” 

His complaints fell on dead ears though, as Daisy’s eyes skimmed across the screen, her eyes lightening up like a Christmas Tree as she realized _who_ he was talking to. “I didn’t know you had Jemma’s number!” she said as she slowly looked up from his screen, wriggling her eyebrows. “She’s looking forward to seeing what you’ve bought, uh? Let’s give her a taste, shall we?” 

Before Fitz could see anything else, Daisy had risen the phone up to eye level and snapped a few pictures of him standing there. He was pretty sure he looked like a deer caught in the headlight, and he knew Daisy thought so too the moment she frowned. 

“Come on, make an effort! I’m trying to secure your future wedding there, you could at least smile.” she said with a crook eyebrow, staring at him with an impassive face. 

“I’m not— Daisy, I don’t t-think…” 

Daisy sighed. “Come on, Fitz, live a little. The hot physiotherapist you have a crush on wants to know what you’ve bought, what are you risking? If she finds it inappropriate, which she won’t because she’s got the hots for you too, you can always tell her I stole your phone and sent the picture without your consent. It’s clearly not a selfie, and you look like I just killed your puppy anyway.” 

Fitz didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know that he was scowling. “A-alright.” 

It took him a little extra effort to get his posture and feature back into a more relaxed stance, and Daisy made a noise of appreciation as she snapped a few shots of him. “Now let’s change the shirt, Fitz!” 

He obediently switched from the dark green button down shirt to the white stripped one she’d insisted on bringing in the changing rooms, and he was surprised to realize that he actually really loved it. He felt comfortable in the fabric as it stretched against his chest pleasantly. Fitz barely heard the sound of his phone camera going off once more before he turned to Daisy and her triumphant grin. 

“She’s gonna love it!” she said excitedly, handing him his phone. 

Fitz felt his stomach sway slightly as he realized that she must have sent the pictures already, immediately opening his conversation with Jemma to see what Daisy had done. 

> To: Jemma

_hey jemma, it’s daisy! I stole fitz’s phone just to infuriate him. here’s a few shots of fitz wearing the shirts I picked for him. feel free to help him choose, he’s such a loser. xxx_

Fitz felt his jaw drop. “Daisy! I’m not a loser! You can’t j-just say that to my d-doctor!” 

“Well. Looks like I can, and I did.” 

Before he had time to argue some more, his phone vibrated in his hands. 

> From: Jemma

_Well, he looks very dashing in both. I’d say I have a preference for the white stripped one, though. Now, give him his phone back before he blushes from head to toe!_

Fitz felt a weird fleeting sensation blossom at the bottom of his stomach as he read the message a second time, making sure he hadn’t dreamed it. Did Jemma just call him dashing? And how exactly could she know about him blushing at the slightest compliment? There was no way she paid attention to him that much. Was this entire situation just a prank organized by his sister? 

Before he had time to dwell some more on that theory, Daisy’s head blocked his screen as she peaked at his message, letting out a soft “aw” of appreciation as she did. 

“She called you dashing!” she exclaimed. “Fitz, I knew it! She totally has the hots for you.” 

Fitz didn’t know about that, but there was one thing he knew for sure and it was that his heart leaped in his chest at the idea of Jemma studying him long enough to know exactly what made him blush like a schoolboy. And if he smiled a little dopily for the rest of the evening —and bought the shirt, obviously— it was none of anyone else’s business anyway. 

* * *

When he walked home after a walk around the park by himself a few days later, Fitz was barely even surprised to see Tony Stark in his mum’s living room, walking around the place like he owned it and poking at the few bits of electronics he found on his way. Linda didn’t seem phased either, pointely looking at his son until he invited the other man upstairs, to talk more privately.

“You know, you have t-to learn to announce yourself b-beforehand” Fitz said in a sigh as he closed the door to his bedroom, not still quite believing that he was actually able to chastise Tony Stark in person. But here he was, in his small childhood bedroom, looking like he owned the place.

Tony looked at him from above his ridiculously expensive glasses as he turned around, taking in the small room he’d stepped in. “Pepper tells me that all the time.”

“Ever t-thought about, hm, listening t-to what she tells you?”

“Meh. Mostly when it involves me getting laid. Otherwise… Not really, no.” 

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “I d-don’t… wanna know t-that.” 

Tony shot him a wink, making himself comfortable on the small bed. “Is it your childhood bedroom?” he asked, looking around and staring at the wall opposite his bed and the Lord of the Rings poster on it. “I had much more pictures, and the girls on it wore much less clothes.” 

“Okay” Fitz interrupted, clasping his hands together. “W-what do you need me for?” 

Sensing the change of tone, Tony wriggled a little, reaching for a crumpled piece of paper inside of his pocket. Finding it, he waved it in front of Fitz’s nose, the young engineer grabbing it on the fly. As he unfolded it to take a proper look at it, Tony spoke again. 

“Your speech has gotten better since the last time we saw each other.” 

Fitz hummed, still staring at the design in front of him. He could already see some flaws in it, but it wasn’t easy to concentrate with a man that seemed to find it impossible to shut up. 

“And your hand shakes a lot less” Tony added with a pointed look.

Fitz sighed. “S-still not good enough to w-work properly.” 

“Hm hm.”

“So you want to create c-cybernetic implants to attach to the stumps?" Fitz asked, cutting short any further discussion about his physical disability.

"Yeah. That's what I'm having trouble finding my way around." Tony said, looking awfully annoyed at the prospect. Fitz guessed it wasn’t easy for Tony Stark of all people to admit defeat, and felt his chest swell a little with pride at the realization that his expertise was valued _that_ much.

Fitz nodded. "You have to t-take into account the physical capabilities of the patient, their level of amputation, their… their psychological status on top of that. Have you considered their pre-existing medical back— c-conditions?"

"Yep." 

"The patient's e-e-expectations?" 

"I find that as long as you give them something to work with, they don't really think about the visual aspect at first. So I’ll worry about that later, for now I need to find a way for this entire thing" he gestured with his hand at the piece of paper Fitz was holding, “to work.” 

"Alright, so basic d-design first. Have you considered elaborating… creating a p-prosthesis in the same material as your green recycled m-material?" Stark Industries had been working on going entirely green for a while now, and Tony had found a way to create a whole new element, vibranium, that could be sustainable and work with his prosthetics. 

Tony sighed in defeat. "I don’t think it can work. It's too dangerously strong." 

"So that raises a b-balance problem. You need something, hm… easy to manipulate." 

"Yeah, that's the tricky part."

With a sigh and a pout that probably shouldn’t look as funny as it did on one of the richest CEOs in the world, Tony let himself fall flat on his back on the bed. It almost looked like he wanted to dig actual holes in Fitz’s mum’s ceiling, something that Linda would probably not appreciate very much. The house was old enough as it was, and Fitz had done his fair share of repairs around it when he was younger, too. 

Fitz sighed, sitting at his desk. His own legs were getting tired, and he didn’t really feel like kicking his possible-future-boss from his spot on the bed. "But the f-first step is to find a way to g-graft them without causing pain, and implant them d-directly onto the stump." 

"Yeah, but even without the surgical part, that still leaves the strength problem.” Tony said, his eyes getting a little glassy as he no doubts considered the possibility, running various calculations in his head. “With the vibranium, I had to learn how to work with it, construction-wise. It’s a strong metal, and using the prosthesis with too much strength could cause the interface to transmit every electrical signal simultaneously, which could overload the nervous system." 

Fitz frowned. "Sure, but... analyzing the gait pattern before implanting anything can help determine why these deviations are occurring in the first place. You can formulate a rehabilitation p-p-program, in which you can include the corrections of the d-deviations. Outcomes measures can be used to monitor progress, you just need… you need a t-test subject. And m-most importantly… it means you c-can still use vibranium." 

Tony, who’d taken leverage on his elbows during his speech, was grinning from ear to ear now. "Yeah, well. I don't think an actual and willing test subject is going to be that hard to find." 

Ignoring the other man’s excited babbles, Fitz kept on brainstorming. "The patients have to perform pre-prosthetic exercise to help maintain ROM, and improve m-muscle strength in the lower limb, and the… the” he snapped his finger, releasing a shaky breath. “The r-residual limb, in preparation for using the p-prosthetic in the first place. Abdominal and back exercises have to be considered too… to, hmm, to help reduce back p-pain and control the body. It's meant to improve asymmetry, change in biomechanics and other secondary c-consequences after the amputation."

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m gonna have to ask you to write all of that somewhere, or ask Jarvis to do it for you.” Tony jumped to his feet, grabbing Fitz’s head in both his hands to press a kiss against his forehead. When he pulled back, they looked at each other warily, not knowing who exactly between the two of them was the most surprised by the unexpected gesture. “You're a genius, Fitz. And I’m not one to say that lightly, because I usually only use that word for myself and a few other people, most of them being long dead.” 

Fitz had no idea if it was a compliment, but he sure wasn’t about to look a gift’s horse in the mouth. Not so surprisingly, he felt his lips stretch into a smile when Tony did a series of little hops in front of the bed, brandishing his fist in the air. It felt awfully good to feel useful again, and his entire body was tingling with pure adrenaline. His head felt whole again, somehow, and even if it had been a pretty simple thing to help Tony with, it had been a long time since he’d managed to organize his thoughts well enough to manage a proper sentence —and result. 

“I’m having a charity gala in New York in two weeks” Tony kept going. “I’d like you to come.” 

It took awhile for Fitz to fully realize what Tony had just told him. “Wha’?” 

“I want you to come to the charity Gala I’m hosting at the tower in New York in two weeks” Tony repeated, crooking an eyebrow. “I still want to hire you, in case you didn’t notice. You probably helped me more in a single conversation than all the people I’ve talked to in two months of brainstorming that idea with them. Even if, to be fair, no one’s actually qualified for this job, and I should probably stop asking Pepper for insight when she’s handling the whole society on her own and I’m here, wandering in Scotland of all places.”

Fitz frowned at that. It wasn’t the first time Tony had criticized the country, and he wondered what he meant by that exactly. But the bomb that had been the charity gala invitation prevented him from actually thinking about anything else, and he found himself panicking slightly at the idea of crossing such a big step. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Fitz thought about Jemma, and how she would react in this situation. His fingers hitched to grab his phone and text her. 

“I need… t-to think about it” he eventually managed to utter, fiddling with his hands on his lap anxiously. 

Fortunately for him, Tony seemed to have sensed the change of tone in the conversation, because he nodded firmly, clasping his hands together. “Yeah, sure. I need to head back to New York anyway. Business, all that.” He waves his hands around as if to emphasize his point. Walking towards the door, he turned towards him once more. “But keep me updated, alright?” 

“Yeah, sure. T-thank you, for the offer I m-mean.”

“Hey, no worries man. Thank _you_ for the help.”

Fitz barely registered when Tony left the room, too caught up in his own head already. The thumb of his right hand was digging in the palm of his left, something he very often did to soothe the ache of his muscles like Jemma had shown him, but something he also caught the habit of doing in stressful situations. Before he could really think about it, he’d taken out his cell and went to the only person he wanted to confide in in this situation.

> To: Jemma

_hello jemma, I hope I’m not overstepping? I could really need your advice on something._

After typing and correcting the message at least three times, he finally pressed send, moving around his room to sit on his bed. The covers were still slightly rumpled from where Tony had sat, which only made him spiral back to his previous struggle. Could he really attend the gala? It was a dream come true, something he’d only been able to picture in his wildest dreams. Tony Stark was well known for his charity galas, throwing them at times to present some of his projects and using the occasion to collect some exorbitant amount of money from rich investors, money that he later on gave to various charities of his choice. Some of the bigger names of the industries attended them, and Fitz vividly remembered how Justin Hammer hated that he never got a proper invitation himself. It had always been something that deeply amused Fitz, too. 

Justin Hammer was full of himself, not even that good at his job, and Fitz had never really liked him the few times he’d gotten to meet him. Life was funny, Fitz thought as he laid down on the exact same spot Tony had done the same a few minutes prior, because the media always like to paint Tony as an arrogant man, full of himself and not deserving of his company. A company that changed the life of many people, giving them a new life and new amazing opportunities. Justin Hammer however was always the golden boy of the press, when he was probably the most annoying person Fitz had ever met. And now, Fitz got to discuss designs and velocity with Tony Stark in his childhood bedroom when Justin Hammer had fired him without a glance back. 

A vibration from his phone tore Fitz from his thoughts, and he brought the device up to his face to glance at the text he’d just received.

> From: Jemma

_Of course you’re not overstepping. How can I help you?_

Fitz felt his stomach flutter. He had his session with her the day after, but she hadn’t scolled him for waiting until then. Was he overstepping his boundaries? Should he have waited for their session? He felt like he bothered her enough with his existential crisis already, even though Jemma never acted like she was bored out of her mind. He had no idea how good of an actress she was though, but his stomach lurched at the idea of her pretending to be nice for his sake. He’d always loved how genuine and honest they were with each other, and Fitz knew it would break him if he ever came to learn that Jemma was simply faking it for his sake. He’d had enough of people faking interests in his projects or their relationship only to use him for his brain for most of his life. 

> To: Jemma

_I’m sorry, I should have waited for tomorrow. it’s not that important._

His fingers almost flew over the keyboard as he typed, and it was only when he’d pressed send that he realized how his fingers were steadier than ever. Letting his phone fall against his chest, he looked at his bad hand with a frown. 

“Uh” he said unintelligently, a warm feeling spreading through his stomach. 

Maybe his cause wasn’t that lost after all. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma sank a little further in her seat, chuckling at something Hunter said as she brought her beer up to her lips again. The restaurant they were in wasn’t too crowded, something Jemma appreciated. After spending a full day at the hospital, her head sometimes felt like it could explode when she finally got out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I can't believe it's already chapter 6, and we're almost halfway into this fiction! The plot thickens today, and here comes the second part and plot of this entire story. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos and comments on this fic. I'm so incredibly happy to know you like it so far, and I hope you will like the rest of it as well!!
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, as I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments!! xx

Jemma sank a little further in her seat, chuckling at something Hunter said as she brought her beer up to her lips again. The restaurant they were in wasn’t too crowded, something Jemma appreciated. After spending a full day at the hospital, her head sometimes felt like it could explode when she finally got out of there. Hunter had taken that into consideration, bless him, and he’d found a nice little restaurant Jemma had never been to before. The table they’d been seated at was nice, isolated from the main area and the big couches that replaced usual sitting chairs were definitely a plus. 

“I don’t understand how you guys can live like that,” Jemma said, tilting her head to the side as Hunter rolled his eyes. “It sounds like… well. Like a lot of troubles.” 

Their current conversation had deviated from Hunter’s future plans to get back to the United States —something about Fitz telling him something that made him react, Jemma wasn’t sure what it was as he’d been pretty evasive when asked about it— to his relationship with Bobbi. 

Hunter chuckled, pushing a piece of meat with the tip of his fork. “But it’s worth it in the end.” 

“Is it? Because it sounds like you’re sleeping on the couch more often than not.”

“Yeah, well. I never said Bob never joined me on the couch during the night,” he chuckled “trust me. Those pillows have _seen things_.” 

Jemma wrinkled her nose, barely repressing a snort. “Ew, Hunter!” 

On her lap, her phone pinged again. She looked down at it immediately, her heart skipping a beat when she realized who was texting her once more. 

> From: L. Fitz

_I’m sorry, I should have waited for tomorrow. it’s not that important._

Frowning at the change of tone, she hastily typed a reply. 

> To: L. Fitz

_Are you sure? I don’t mind._

“Is it your boyfriend again?” Hunter asked, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, shoving another chip in his mouth. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

Hunter hummed. Taking another sip of his beer, he studied Jemma’s face for a little while. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting you like him, you know?” 

Jemma scoffed. “Of course there is.” 

“And why is that?”

“Well he’s my patient, for one. And he’s got other things to worry about than his doctor going all soft on him. His injury is extremely serious, and the last thing he needs is me complicating all of this, especially since he’s been making a lot of progress lately.” 

Hunter brought his beer back to his lips, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _‘as if it mattered’_ as he drank. Jemma didn’t have the strength to argue on the fact that it did, in fact, matter a great deal, simply shaking her head as she dived in her plate once more. Her french fries were delicious, and she lost herself in the taste for a little while, munching on a few of them as she tried as hard as she could not think about baby blue eyes and what looked like a perfectly soft stubble. By the time Jemma’s phone vibrated again, she’d almost lost herself in her thoughts, lamenting about a relationship she’d never have. 

> From: L. Fitz. 

_yeah, I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, the usual time?_

“You know,” Hunter said finally, breaking the awkward silence that had been installed between them. “When I met Bob, I knew right away she was the love of my life.” 

Jemma remembered that moment perfectly. She hadn’t been at the party Hunter had gone to, but she remembered quite vividly how he’d stumbled in her dorm afterwards, babbling about a blonde goddess he’d met. Bobbi had thrown her half empty glass at him, which meant that his shirt was soaked and smelled of awfully cheap alcohol, and Jemma remembered not understanding the glimmer of hope in his eyes. To her 17 years old self, Bobbi sounded like more troubles than she was worth. But Hunter hadn’t given up, courting her for months with an interest Jemma had never seen before in the man —Hunter was a ladies’ man, content to enjoy college with a different girl in his bed every week— and she’d quickly understood how serious he was about her. 

“You told me you would marry her one day” she recalled with a secretive smile. 

“Yep. And I did!” 

“And look where it got you.” 

His quirky smile fell right off Hunter’s face as he looked down at his plate. “Yeah, well. We’re not the same people we were back then.” 

Jemma knew Hunter and Bobbi had been through a lot. For the better part of their life, they’d struggled with Hunter’s inability to find a steady job, his degree being frowned upon in most enterprises. Bobbi had found a job for the government to support them both, something she and Hunter fought about a lot. He felt powerless, she felt obligated. She risked her life every day, and Hunter worried about her never coming back. 

“Do you regret it?” Jemma asked finally. She’d often wondered, with how much they’d fought before their wedding, how many times their engagement had been called off before the actual reception. She couldn’t imagine fighting that much with someone she loved, even less someone she’d married.

“Regret what?”

“Marrying her.”

“Never.” His answer was short and final, and there was no hesitation in his voice. 

Jemma’s stomach lurched a little. She’d been there for all, from the moment Bobbi and Hunter had met each other to their wedding day. And as crazy as it sounded, she knew they deeply loved each other, in their own, crazy complicated way. 

“You once called her a demonic hell beast” she eventually pointed out, ignoring the knot in her stomach “No later than yesterday.” 

“Well, yeah. She can be a bit of a nightmare when she wants to.” 

“Do you realize that it’s not encouraging at all, right? You constantly point out how much of a hassle marriage is.”

Hunter sighed. “See, that’s the thing love. I love Bobbi, probably like I’ll never love anyone ever again. Do I think our marriage was a mistake? Sometimes, especially when we’re in a tight spot, like we are now. Do I wish we hadn’t gotten married? Never.” He took a deep breath, looking around the restaurant. A few couples were there, some huddled together as they whispered sweet nothing into each other’s ears, some a little more distant. Jemma didn’t miss the way Hunter’s eyes turned a little misty at the sight. “But the thing is, I love her to death. I’d lay down my life for her in a heartbeat, and that’s something I can’t ever shake out. She’s the love of my life, no matter how infuriating that might be.” 

Jemma swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It must be nice, to love someone that much.” 

“Depends on the day, I guess. Sometimes it hurts so much I wish I could rip my heart out of my chest.” 

“But it’s all worth it, in the end?” She pressed. “This ride?”

Hunter smiled. “I’ll let you know when I’ll figure it out.” Shaking his head from left to right, he sighed. “But what I meant was… denying what you truly feel isn’t gonna make it all go away. Trust me, I’ve tried. It’s just gonna make you wish you couldn’t feel a single thing, and no matter how convenient that would be… Wouldn’t it be terrible to miss all the good moments you could have?”

Jemma knew what Hunter was trying to tell her. But no matter how tempting it might be, she was still Fitz’s doctor. When the boundaries might not seem as important to Hunter, it was her job, and it was her responsibility as Fitz’s doctor to make sure that he felt as comfortable as possible with her. And if it meant pushing her growing feelings to the side, then so be it. 

“I know what you’re thinking” Hunter interrupted, “and you’re overthinking this.” 

“It’s my job, Hunter. All of this” she mentioned at her phone, waving it in front of his face, “is my job. I can’t just throw it all out of the window for a small crush that will probably lead to nothing anyway.” 

“What, do you think your job will be the one waiting for you when you come home exhausted in ten years?” Hunter said, leaning against the table. His eyes were determined, and Jemma felt a weird tingle run through her body as she watched the man she’d come to know as a carefree teenager talk so vividly about her metaphorical future. It was easy to forget how much they’ve grown, and how far they’d come. “Do you think your job will keep you warm at night or cook you dinner? Or maybe your job will be there for you if you ever feel down, or too exhausted to leave bed on a bad day?” 

“Sounds oddly specific” Jemma breathed. 

Not far from them, a lady let out a loud laugh that reverberated through the restaurant, startling Jemma. 

“What do you think, Jem? Do you think it’s all fun and games? Bobbi and I have our bad moments, that we do. Everyone knows that. But we have our good moments, too. We have moments of peace and quiet, just the two of us. Moments when I can’t leave the bed because I feel like a bloody waste of time and space, and she’s there to wrap herself around me and make me feel like less of a failure.” Taking a deep breath, Hunter crooked his head to the side. “I get being attached to your job, I really do. Hell, it’s one of the multiple things Bobbi and I fight about constantly. What I don’t get is your job getting in the way of your happiness. Because sweetheart, life is too short not to jump on such an opportunity.” 

Jemma didn’t think twice about it when she unlocked her phone once more, clicking on her text conversation with Fitz. She knew Hunter was watching her curiously from the corner of his eyes, and she was not about to turn down an opportunity to prove him wrong. 

> To: L. Fitz

_I was thinking… Of course, feel free to decline. Since my lunch break happens to take place right before our session, what would you say about joining me at the park right next to the hospital for lunch? I could bring two sandwiches, and we could talk about something else than your physical therapy for once._

She pressed send before she could overthink what she was doing, and turned the phone to show Hunter. “There” she said, “happy now?” 

Hunter’s smile was infuriating. Yet, she felt a wave of satisfaction when she saw his eyes widen just the tiniest bit when he looked at what she’d sent. He sat back into his couch, raising an eyebrow. “Very.” 

* * *

_Relax,_ Hunter had said before she walked out of the door the very morning. _Everything’s gonna go just fine. He’s already halfway in love with you anyway._

Jemma bet Hunter never had to deal with the knot currently residing at the pit of her stomach as the clock slowly but surely rushed towards her lunch break. She couldn’t have told a single soul about how her morning at work went, too focused on the stressful situation coming up. Vaguely, Jemma realized she shouldn’t be as stressed out as she was —after all, it was just lunch, and it didn’t have to mean anything— but the mere idea of seeing Fitz outside of the usual professional setting was making her stomach clench in worry. Would Fitz be weirded out by the proposition in itself? Would he feel uncomfortable around her outside of her office? 

When her last client walked out of the door, Jemma felt her lips stretch into a smile when she realized Fitz was already waiting for her. He was seated on the plastic chairs, hands folded on his lap as he stared into the distance. Jemma realized with a start that he’d shaved a little bit, his scruff looking a little more trimmed than the week before. He was also wearing one of the shirts she’d seen in the pictures Daisy had sent, and he looked dashing. Jemma’s heart jumped a little in her chest as she stared, taking in the state of his blonde curls and the perfect shape of his nose as long as he looked away, unaware that he was being watched. 

“Are you ready already?” she asked, making her presence known finally. Jemma felt like she could spend hours just staring at the man, which was a slippery terrain. 

Fitz jumped to his feet, face colouring immediately. Jemma wanted to kiss the bright spots on his cheeks, her stomach fluttering at the thought. Would his beard feel soft against her lips? Would he smell nice, like she always thought when he sat a little closer to her than usual during the sessions? 

“Y-yes” he smiled, grabbing a tote bag Jemma hadn’t seen before, too engrossed in her contemplation of him. “I brought dessert.” 

“Oh, a man after my own heart. Come on, let’s go outside, it’s beautifully sunny.” 

Finding a quiet spot at the park was easier than Jemma would have thought at that time of the day, and they sat down on the grass under a weeping willow casting its shadow onto the both of them. It was surprisingly sunny and warm for an October afternoon, luckily for the both of them. Jemma tried very hard to ignore how loudly her heart beat as she laid down the blanket she’d packed for the both of them, sitting down and encouraging Fitz to do the same. 

“I hope you like prosciutto and mozzarella,” she said as she opened her own tote bag, pulling out the two sandwiches she’d wrapped in thin foil. 

“I l-love it,” he assured, eyes shining as she handed him one. 

She didn’t need to worry about him lying to her as he opened the sandwich, his mouth letting out the smallest groan when he laid eyes on the perfectly sliced bread. She always made sure to cut them in half right in the middle, mostly out of perfectionism. When Fitz brought it up to his nose to sniff it, she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s— it’s wonderful,” Fitz immediately defended himself. “Smells… it smells wonderful.”

“Maybe wait until you’ve actually tasted it to say that, uh?” 

Fitz huffed, clearly certain that he was going to like it. He waited until Jemma unwrapped hers however, before taking a big bite out of it. Jemma barely repressed a smile as his cheeks bulged around the bite, but all hilarity was quickly erased by the obscene moan Fitz let out.

“Jemma” he whispered, his stuffed mouth making it hard for her to hear him correctly. “It’s s-so good!” 

A simple compliment shouldn’t have such an effect on Jemma, but there she was. She felt her entire body shiver pleasantly as she took in Fitz’s shiny eyes and bulging cheek, incredibly satisfied to realize that he liked the sandwich she’d made him. She hadn’t realized she’d been lost in her own thoughts before Fitz stopped chewing, looking down at something he’d noticed on the blanket. 

“Is that y-yours?” he asked, picking up a piece of paper Jemma immediately recognized, even though she thought she’d left at home. 

“Oh. Yeah, it is.”

Fitz looked like a kid on Christmas eve when he caught sight of some of the writings on top of it. “It’s full of m-maths equations. Can I… c-can I open it?” 

“Sure” Jemma chuckled. “It’s definitely not a secret.” 

Watching Fitz unfold the paper made Jemma feel all types of various emotions. Trepidation, for one, to show her work to someone she’d admired for so long for his brain and ideas. Then fear, irrational fear that gazing upon her work would make him feel like he wasn’t capable of thinking like this anymore. Jemma could feel her heart race like crazy, and a small part of her knew how ridiculous it was.

“This is… This is wonderful, Jemma” Fitz gasped, looking up at her. “You wanna use… you want…” he stopped, taking a deep breath. His hand wasn’t shaking at all today, something that Jemma had noticed from the moment she’d stepped out of her office. “It’s very clever,” he offered finally. “You’re very clever. Not that I— not that I doubted it, of course.” 

Jemma laughed. He was so incredibly sweet, and she wanted to kiss him so badly “Yeah, it’s something I’ve been working on. I need a way to deliver dendrotoxin under the subcutaneous tissue, for paralysis. It’s just a theory, though, nothing important.” 

Fitz’s eyes were still glued to the paper in his hands. “Have you… have you thought about a w-weapon, maybe?” 

The proposition startled her. She hadn’t, actually, but she suddenly saw her point. 

“Like what?”

“Like… a prototype gun. If your goal is to create instant paralysis, p-perhaps you could use bullets, to deliver the d-dendrotoxin.” 

Jemma huffed. “But it’d take a dose of only .1 microliters of dendrotoxin. I’m not Hermione, Fitz!” 

The smile he gave her in response made her heart swell.

“Well, n-no. You’re better.” 

She ignored him pointedly, knowing she was already blushing like a schoolgirl. “And it’s not like I could find anyone willing to design a gun specifically for this,” she grabbed the sheet of paper, shoving it inside of her bag again “it’s just something I like to work on in my spare time, anyway.” 

Fitz looked like he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth shut and took another bite off his sandwich. Jemma bit into hers for the first time, delighted to realize that her ingredients still worked perfectly together. By the time she’d chewed and swallowed her second bite, Fitz was done with his entire sandwich, looking a little red in the face. 

“Well you weren’t kidding when you said you liked it” Jemma pointed out, making him blush even harder, to her utter delight. 

“It was really good.” 

“Thank you. I like cooking, it gets my mind off things. Although I don’t think I’m very good at it, really.”

Fitz hummed. “Science used to… used to do that for me.” 

His tone was light, but she could see the crease of worry on his forehead. His thumb was digging in the palm of his bad hand, and Jemma didn’t think twice about it before she reached out and caught it between hers. Her thumb slowly caressed the back of his hand as he looked at her, blue eyes filled with questions she couldn’t even answer. 

“I promise, I’ll do anything in my power to help you.” 

Fitz’s features softened. “I know you w-will. I’ve never doubted you.” 

“And for what it’s worth” Jemma kept going, never looking away from those ocean eyes that hunted her dreams, “I don’t doubt you’ll go back to write science articles in no time.”

This confession earned her a smile, and Jemma kept this small victory close to her heart as she regrettably pulled her hand back. The tip of her fingers were still tingling from the contact, and she took another bite out of her sandwich to prevent herself from saying —or doing— something stupid. Eventually though, the outside world distracted her long enough for Jemma to finish her sandwich as Fitz looked around the park, eyes softening as he watched a mother play with her young son not too far from them. 

When Jemma was done, she wiped her hands on one of the handkerchiefs she’d packed, handing Fitz one. “You wanted to tell me something? Yesterday, I mean.” 

“What? Oh, yeah. Hmmm. I needed… I wanted your advice on something.”

Fitz seemed fidgety all of a sudden, something Jemma hadn’t seen in a while. He’d been restless for the first few sessions, but seemed to have found a way to calm his nerves ever since. To see him so distraught picked Jemma’s curiosity.

“What can I help you with?” she shook her handkerchief to make sure no more crumbs clung to the fabric, putting it back in her bag once she was done. 

“Well, I… Tony Stark asked for me t-to come to his charity gala” Fitz blurted out. 

Jemma blinked once, then twice. “What?”

“Tony Stark—”

“Yeah, no” she cut him, chuckling. “I heard that. I just… You know Tony Stark? Stark Industries Tony Stark?” 

Jemma wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had had a phase of profound admiration for the engineer, a long time ago. Before she even graduated University, Jemma had even fantasized about working for the man himself for a few months. She was young, full of ambition and liked to think she was better than the other students in her promotion —which, to be fair, wasn’t pretentious of her to assume. She’d been forced to come back to reality the moment she stepped into the uncompromising world of work, and all fantasies of Tony Stark recruiting her to work at Stark Industries had been forgotten entirely when she moved to Scotland and got a job at the Queen Elizabeth University Hospital. 

“He invited himself o-one day” Fitz winced. “Didn’t really have a choice but to l-listen to him.” 

“That’s… unusual.” 

Fitz snorted. “Yeah. He likes my mum’s c-cooking.” 

“Oh. Well I suppose that’s a good enough reason to invite himself over, then.” 

Her attempts to relax Fitz seemed to work as he chuckled once more, bending his head adorably. 

“Yeah, hmm. Perhaps. My mum is a r-really good cook. You should… you should come by, one day. She’d— she’d love that.”   
Jemma thought about the fierce woman she’d seen at the store, so eager to know more about her secretive son’s life and worried about his future but also so incredibly supporting of his passions. “I’d love that, Fitz. But first, you have to tell me more about why exactly Tony Stark invited you to his charity gala.” 

Above them, a bird chipped in contempt as it flew right above their heads. Fitz looked up, smiling when he realized a squirrel was climbing the trunk of a tree nearby. Jemma loved nature, she loved Scotland precisely because she was surrounded by endless nature and got the opportunity to hike in the Highlands. But as she watched Fitz look at said nature, she found that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of him. 

Fitz eventually focused his attention back on her, esquissing a smile. “After our f-first meeting” he began, “Daisy and I came home to Tony Stark sitting on the c-couch of our living-room.”

“Alright. That’s… Unexpected.”

Fitz shook his head in amusement. “Yeah. T-talk about surprises… This was a big one. He told me he wanted to hire me, which wasn’t exactly p-possible at that time” he gestured at his head with his bad hand, smiling a little self deprecatingly. “Told me he could wait as l-long as it took for me to get b-better, too. I didn’t— didn’t think much about it, you know? But then he starts t-texting me about the newest show on tv and comes back at my m-mum’s yesterday night.”

Jemma could barely restrain a snort at that. Tony Stark had always been depicted as a selfish prick by the press, something she’d never truly believed. On top of organizing charity galas and devoting his life to creating prostheses for disabled people, Tony Stark had always been very open about various issues such as the Black Lives Matter movement or LGBTQ+ struggles, much to many conservative and Republican’s dismay. Knowing that he’d seen Fitz’s worth no matter his injury warmed Jemma’s heart, and only emphasized the initial respect she had for the man. 

“That’s when he invited you to the gala?” she asked. It explained a lot from his behavior the night before, knowing how shy he’d been with her phone number from the moment she’d given it to him. She hadn’t expected him to use it daily, but she figured —and most of all, hoped— that he would text her a little more. However, he’d been extremely respectful of her, and she had no idea how she felt about it. 

“Yeah, well. He asked for help on a prosthetic he was having trouble building.” Fitz shrugged. “I think… I think I helped him out? Anyway, he i-i-invited me straight after. Said I should come, and… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you want to go?” Jemma asked. 

“I don’t know if I _should_ go. I don’t if I can… If I’m capable of going, too.” 

Jemma tilted her head to the side, studying him. “Why would you think that?” 

The look Fitz threw her was filled with worry, something she hadn’t seen in his gaze for what felt like a very long time. The progress he’d made in the last few weeks were gargantuous for someone with such an injury, and she’d made sure to tell him several times during their sessions together. But at this very moment, it felt like Fitz was back to square one, crippled with the same doubts and anxiety he used to carry through the door of her office the first few times they’d seen each other. 

“B-because I still—” Fitz sighed, averting his gaze. “I still struggle, with words.” 

“That doesn’t mean you’re not better at your job than a lot of people who aren't,” Jemma smiled.

“But what if it’s not enough? The galas… there are a lot of people there.” Fitz’s eyebrows were almost knitted together now, and Jemma shouldn’t find it as adorable as she did. 

She hummed. “Yeah, there are.”

“What if it gets too much?”

“Is that really what this is all about, Fitz?” 

The question seemed to startle him slightly. For a moment, Jemma felt like she’d overstepped a little when his eyes snapped back to her face. 

“I just think,” Jemma kept going, “that you’re trying very hard to deflect and find excuses not to attend something that is probably every engineer in the world's dream.” She stretched her legs on the blanket, wiggling her toes to avoid restless leg syndrome. 

Fitz averted his gaze once more, his voice almost silent as he replied. “Maybe” 

Jemma reached out to him, pushing the boundaries of their physical contacts once again as she grabbed his arm. Under her fingers, his muscles were surprisingly strong, something she couldn’t have guessed with simple glances here and then during their sessions. She pushed that bit of information down, swallowing past the lump forming in her throat, and smiled at him. 

“Fitz. I know it feels like your recovery is still a long and painful road to hike your way through. But trust me when I tell you you’ve done the worst of it. Look at your hand! It barely shakes anymore. You’re a very different man from the one who walked inside my office for the first time. And I will not tell you that there won’t be bad days, because there will be, and you have to be prepared for the possibility. But you are totally capable of attending this gala, and nailing it. I know it.” 

“Do you really believe so?” Fitz’s eyes were shining as he looked up at her, a little breathless. 

Jemma nodded with vigor. “I’m sure. Now you’re gonna grab that phone of yours, and accept Stark’s invitation. You were meant to do great things, Fitz, I’m certain of it.”

Around them, the leaves shook with the wind that had started ruffling the few trees around them, but somehow Jemma knew the shiver that ran through her body wasn’t caused by the change of temperature. The hand that had previously been on Fitz’s arm slid down until it rested right against his wrist, right against his pulse. Feeling the blood flowing through his veins filled her with a sense of quietness she rarely achieved without yoga, and for a moment Jemma pretended the situation between them was entirely normal. 

“You should come with me.” 

At first, Jemma wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. Still wrapped into her own little fantasy, she blinked up at Fitz as he bit the inside of his cheek, flushing deep red. 

“What?”

“Come.. C-come with me. To Stark’s gala.” 

Jemma let out a slow exhale. Under her fingers, Fitz’s pulse quickened. “Fitz, I can’t…”

“I’m sure he’d be i-impressed with you, as m-much as I am.” 

She didn’t have the time to dwell on the fact that Fitz _admired_ her, her phone letting out a resounding and familiar sound from where it’d been left on the blanket. Immediately, Fitz seemed to recoil back on himself, his shoulders hunching up to his ears as Jemma let go of his wrist to grab the offending device. 

“I need to head back,” she croaked. “It’s almost time for our session.” 

“Jemma—” Fitz tried, but she didn’t let him finish, jumping to her feet in a hurry. 

“I need… I think I need to think about it, yeah?”

She didn’t tell him how badly she wanted to say yes, how badly she wanted to throw herself in his arms at the mere idea of them going to the gala together. Meeting Tony Stark had always been a dream of hers, but attending such a formal event with Leopold Fitz of all people made her heart quicken in her chest. And it was the exact reason why she needed to take some time to think about it, because it would have been so tempting and easy to say yes right here and then.

“Yeah, okay.” 

Fitz looked a little grim, but she did her best in offering him a warm, sincere smile. When he gave her one back, even if a little tentative, Jemma felt the knot that had formed in her chest lessened a little. The last thing she wanted was for Fitz to close back onto himself in front of her apparent hesitation. They’d spent too much time in the last two months building a trusting relationship for one of them to take a step back now. 

“Let’s head back, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure” he replied with a small smile. “W-wouldn’t want you to be l-late and tarnish your perfect reputation.” 

The smile in his voice was evident, and Jemma made a show of gasping in outrage as she turned back towards him, folding the picnic blanket in her arms. “I can’t believe you!” She shook her head, unable to resist smiling at Fitz’s childish grin.

* * *

When she walked into her house that very night, Jemma felt like sleeping for ten hours straight. Her Wednesdays were always a little tiring, and the lunch she’d spent trying to think about anything else but kissing Fitz —only to have him drop a bomb on her that had made her overthink the situation for the rest of the day —hadn’t helped her exhaustion.

“So, did you conclude?” Hunter’s voice boomed from inside the kitchen. 

As Jemma discarded her coat and put her keys on the small shelf next to the door, she was finally hit by the scent of delicious cooking. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the sandwich in the park with Fitz. The thought of Fitz’s name made her heart race, and she braced herself, preparing herself for Hunter’s inquisitive questions. 

“Are you guys getting married soon?” Hunter pressed, his head appearing from the doorway. He was wearing a kitchen apron, one that said “ _kiss the cook_ ” that he’d bought a handful of days prior when they were shopping, finding it absolutely hilarious. Jemma had to remind him that he wouldn’t be staying long, and she’d end up with it in the end, but it hadn’t stopped him nonetheless. 

“Shut up, Hunter” 

“Now that’s a bit mean, love. Especially considering the fact that I made lasagnas.” 

Her stomach only rambled louder in response and Hunter snickered. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

He disappeared in the kitchen again and Jemma heard him rummage through the kitchen, probably to dress the table. Jemma disappeared inside her bedroom just long enough to freshen up and take out her bra —a relief, after such a long day— before joining Hunter in the living room.

“There you go” Hunter cut a huge slice of lasagna, putting it on the plate in front of her. “Now you’re going to eat, and then you’re going to tell me everything about your day.” 

The lasagnas were wonderful, and coupled with Hunter’s inquisitive gaze, Jemma almost immediately spilled everything. To his credit, Hunter waited until she was completely done talking before humming. 

“And what do you want to do?” he asked, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “What’s the first answer that came to your mind when he asked?” 

“You know what it was.” Jemma accused, avoiding his gaze. 

“Which means you’re still trying to find excuses not to say yes.”

Jemma bit the inside of her lip not to reply. Hunter knew what she thought about her situation, yet he seemed to act like he didn’t understand it. When she didn’t blame him for wanting to see her happy, as he’d said so himself, but it didn’t change a single thing. 

“Don’t you wanna do something about it?” Hunter pressed. “Doesn’t it drive you crazy?” 

“Hunter…” 

“No, love. Listen. I’m going back to the US at the end of the week, okay.” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t told her he’d taken a plane ticket yet, even though she knew he was bound to leave at some point. She knew he’d started talking to Bobbi again over the phone, too, and when she was happy things were getting better between them she felt a weird pinch in her stomach at the idea of him leaving her. In a couple of weeks, she’d gotten used to him being around again, just like old times. 

“I’m leaving” Hunter kept going, “and I don’t wanna leave you by yourself pining over missed opportunities.” 

“It’s not missed opportunities, Hunter.”

“Isn’t it? Not attending a Stark gala after being invited by the only man you’ve had a crush on in the last, what, five years isn’t one?” 

Jemma bit her lower lip, averting her gaze.

Hunter sighed, reaching for her hand that she’d folded on the table between them. “I’m not trying to guilt trip you, Jem. I just want you to be happy, because you deserve it.” 

“I know.” 

Luckily for her, Hunter didn’t press much. If he sneaked a few glances her way through the rest of the dinner, neither of them said a single thing about it, which she was grateful for. Her mind was busy enough overthinking the current situation for him not to add any more confusion, and he seemed to sense it. For someone as impulsive as Hunter, he had his sensible moment, for which Jemma was eternally grateful for.

After dinner, Hunter offered to clean up the table and do the dishes, something that surprised Jemma as he very rarely did. However, as soon as she got up to leave the room, he called her back for a moment. 

“Jem?” he said, putting his hand over the side of the sink for a moment. “Whatever you decide… Don’t hurt him. You’re my friend, and I love you to death, but Fitz… he’s opened his heart to you, yeah? And I’ve got the feeling he’s not one to do that often.” 

Jemma’s throat was too closed up for her to reply, and she merely nodded as she fled to the bathroom. The hot shower did nothing to ease her tension though, and when she finally slipped in her bed after staring at her cell phone accusingly, Jemma Simmons went to sleep with a stomach in knots and tears welling up in her eyes. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz woke up with a pounding headache. Those days were getting rarer, but somehow declaring —or half declaring, at least— his feelings to the woman he was pretty sure he wanted to marry one day had that effect on a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYLOOOO!  
> I cannot believe I actually forgot to post this chapter???? I'm an idiot sandwich, you can say it. Alright, alright. Here it comes! Today I offer you some (very, very light) angst, more siblings fitzdaisy and more of Fitz's mum, too. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments on this fic. I'm so happy to know you like it so far, and I hope you will like the rest of it as well!!
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, as I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments!! xx

Fitz woke up with a pounding headache. Those days were getting rarer, but somehow declaring —or half declaring, at least— his feelings to the woman he was pretty sure he wanted to marry one day had that effect on a person. With a groan, he rolled over in his bed and cracked an eye open to look at the bedside clock.

**9:32.**

It was a wonder his mum hadn’t woken him up yet, as she tended to be an early riser. Perhaps she’d picked on his sour mood in the last two days, even if she’d swallowed back any questions under Daisy’s gaze. Once more, Fitz was extremely grateful for his sister, who hadn’t asked questions when he’d showed up feeling like he could cry from both relief and anguish after his session with Jemma. 

Their lunch had been wonderful. It had been a dream come true, and when he’d been seated on the blanket Jemma had laid out under the sun, he’d almost been able to pretend it was an actual date. Her sandwich had been the most wonderful thing he’d ever eaten —which was to say something because his mum’s cooking was wonderful— and their talk about science. For the first time since his accident, Fitz hadn’t felt the need to prove himself, his worth or his intelligence. He’d been able to simply talk about science, and get to know Jemma’s mind a little better. And something as simple as that had brought him close to tears, because feeling so utterly _accepted_ was everything he thought he’d never have again.

And Jemma… Jemma was brilliant. Not that he’d doubted that, really. But getting to see it with his own eyes had been a privilege, The blush on her cheeks had made his heart speed up in no time, and he’d wanted to see that spark in her eyes forever. Going on with this train of thoughts as he stretched in bed, Fitz pictured Jemma’s face when they talked about dendrotoxin. The warmth that spread through his body felt like heaven, and for a small moment, Fitz indulged himself. He imagined how it would have felt to bend over and press his lips against hers, to feel the warmth of her skin under his fingers as he caressed her neck or nosed her cheek. However, biology reminded itself to him and this feeling of plenitude was soon replaced by shame as he felt his body act accordingly in response, and he groaned in defeat, pushing those delicious images to the back of his head. 

And just as suddenly, Fitz remembered something Jemma mentioned as they talked, something that had made him tick the day of. _“It’s not like I could find anyone willing to design a gun specifically for this”,_ When Fitz wasn’t Tony Stark kind of famous, he was doing pretty alright for himself when it came to his reputation. He’d written his fair share of articles, and he knew Jemma had read some of them. He could definitely do something for her —or at least, attempt to.

Kicking back the covers, Fitz stifled his groan as he got up and out of bed, walking towards his desk. He’d spent so much time drawing designs and sketching equations when he was a teenager, that sitting back at this very same place to do it all over again felt almost familiar in its difference. He hadn’t bought proper pens and sketching books in forever, but rummaging through his drawers helped him find the necessary supplies to get started. 

Picking up his pen shakingly, Fitz let out a deep breath through his nose. It had been months since he’d last drawn something, and even before his accident, he didn’t remember designing something that had been exciting in forever. Hammer Industries had put a hold to his creativity, and sitting back in front of a white page felt like jumping out of an airplane. His hand was shaking slightly, but Fitz found that if he concentrated hard enough, he could hold the pen still long enough to draw a straight line. With a satisfied huff, he ripped the page he’d just wasted and stared at a brand new one. 

And with a deep exhale, he let the pen wander on the page, sketching his first real design in months. His headache felt like a souvenir as he concentrated on the page, sketching shapes and turning them into full gun parts that he’d pictured as soon as he’d read Jemma’s study on dendrotoxin. She needed a light weapon, maybe a small gun that could easily fit into a holster like any other handgun. He could already imagine it in front of his very eyes, and putting his thoughts on paper felt like taking a deep, burning breath after spending too long holding it. In his chest, his heart was racing like crazy, and the adrenalin of working on something felt like a drug cursing through his veins.

Fitz was so caught up in his drawing that he didn’t hear his mum’s soft knock at the door, only realizing she was there when she opened the door and called out his name. “Leo? Are you okay in there son?” 

Fitz hummed his assent. His design was a little shaky, but he was pretty satisfied with the overall result so far. Yet, he still had many more ideas to compensate the balance problem such a compact weapon would cause. 

“Leo? What are you doing there?”

“Hum?” He hadn’t realized his mum had walked inside the room, eyes wide when she’d realize where he was seated and what he was currently doing. His back was at the door, and it was only when she circled him and came to stand right beside him that Linda was able to see what he was doing. 

“Oh, Leo. You’re drawing again!” 

His mum’s voice sounded a bit choked, and with a start, Fitz looked up at her. Linda’s eyes were filled with tears as they looked down at the designs she couldn’t even understand, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Fitz felt his chest swell with pride. 

“Yeah” he whispered, nodding emphasingly. “I’m drawing again.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

Fitz barely had time to open his mouth again before his mum threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her chest. In the position they were in —he was still seated, and his mum was standing right next to the desk— Fitz felt like he was a little child again. It had been ages since his mum had embraced him like this, and when she wasn’t shy with her affections, he realized that he’d pushed her away almost unconsciously. He’d been so focused on trying to keep his job at Hammer Industries that he didn’t even think about how his mum would feel about him not coming home as often as before, and he’d constantly pushed her away since his accident. Sinking in her embrace at this very moment, Fitz felt his eyes water. 

“Mum” he whispered against the fabric of her shirt, “I’m sorry.” 

Her hands, previously running through his curls, stilled for a moment. “What are you talking about, hon?” 

The fabric of her shirt was soft against his cheek, and the familiar scent of his childhood home mixed with his mother’s perfume almost made Fitz’s head spin. Closing his eyes to prevent any treacherous tears from sliding down his cheeks, he swallowed past the lump in his throat. 

“For p-pushing you away. For lashing at you, sometimes, too.”

“Oh, honey. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

Detaching himself from her embrace, Fitz looked up at her. “Don’t say that, mum.” 

“Of course I’ll say that if I want to, Leopold” she snapped, making him grimace at the use of his full name. She very rarely did, because she knew how much it made him think about his father. “Because you’re my son, and I know you. I know your heart, and I know the past few years have been difficult for you. I know you don’t like asking for help, and it must have been hard for you to come back here and depend on me once more.” She sighed, and Fitz noticed how shiny her eyes were all of a sudden. “But no matter what, Leo, you will always be my boy. I will always love you unconditionally, no matter what. You need to understand that, ‘kay?” 

Fitz’s throat was too choked up for him to verbally reply, and all he could do was nod, burying his head against her shirt once more. The tip of his mum’s fingers were playing with the short curls at the base of his neck, and he allowed himself a few more seconds into the embrace, before pulling away for good. 

“Thank you” he eventually whispered, feeling too emotional to look up at his mum again. Instead, he stared at the design he’d nearly finished, feeling like his life was finally coming together after months of uncertainty. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Leo. You know that.” 

“But I want to,” he argued. “P-please, mum. Let me thank you.” 

He didn’t have to look up to see her eye roll. “Alright. Now show me what you’re working on.” 

* * *

That very night, after he’d sent his design to Jemma (and tried very hard not to overthink it), Fitz lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Against his stomach, his bad hand lay still, sole but ironical reminder that he’d made some progress with _something_. The same couldn’t be said about the rest of his life, and the ache in his chest was a painful nudge to the absolute disaster he called his personal life. Over the course of the months he’d known Jemma, Fitz had realized that looking at her was like looking directly into the sun, he’d lost himself in the contemplation without thinking about how much it would burn afterwards. 

Fitz was torn from his daydream when the door of his room creaked open. It was pitch dark outside, the only faint light of the moon not allowing him to see who was slipping inside, but Fitz recognized Daisy’s footsteps immediately. She closed the door behind her, walking towards the bed, and slipped under the covers right next to him. 

“Daisy?” he asked in a whisper. 

“God, I remember this being easier when we weren’t this grown up,” was the only reply he heard from her as she wriggled against him, making him snort. “Get on your side already you big lump, I’m gonna fall on my ass and wake mom up.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes, squirming until he could lay on his side, opening his arms for Daisy to snuggle against his chest. She did it with a sigh, and Fitz was thrown back to a time when they used to do this all the time, late at night. It drove their mum crazy, because they were both worn out and cranky in the morning after spending the better part of the night talking. 

“To what do I owe the p-pleasure?” Fitz sassed, keeping his voice low.

“What, getting to hug me isn’t enough?” 

With a bit of a twist, Fitz was able to dig his fingers in Daisy’s ribs, making her yelp in displeasure. “You ass! And here I was, coming to see you for heartfelt advice.” 

“Did you now?” 

They used to do that before, too. Daisy would come see Fitz at night to whisper words she wouldn’t have dared to say out loud in another context, and Fitz listened. He gave his honest opinion too, whenever she needed it, his heart warm from the trust and love she placed in him. 

“Yeah.” Daisy’s voice was a little quieter now, and Fitz twisted his arms to be able to push the flat of his palm against her back, rubbing it in small circles through her sleep shirt. “Do you think Daniel and I are moving too fast?” 

Fitz took a moment to think about it. “What would you c-call ‘too fast’ exactly?” 

“I slept with him yesterday.”

“Ew” Fitz wrinkled his nose, and Daisy crackled against his chest. “In the list of things I didn’t need to know about my sister, t-this is probably in the top... three.” 

Daisy nudged him none too gently. “Stop being a baby already.”

“And,” Fitz kept going, ignoring her “keeping that very, _very_ sensible in-information in mind, I still don’t know what you consider too early.” 

Daisy sighed. “It’s just frightening, you know? I don’t think I’ve felt this way since Lincoln, and I never thought… I never thought I would, again.” 

Daisy rarely talked about Lincoln, and Fitz never pressed. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing someone you loved so deeply in such a sudden manner. He’d never fell deeply in love with anyone —and he refused to think about Jemma at this very moment, no matter how much his heart arched and his stomach fluttered every time he thought about her, or the way he couldn’t even begin to phantom losing her— but he’d seen the way it had crushed Daisy for years. He’d seen the way their mum had tried to coax her into eating again after a few days, seen how red and tears rimmed her eyes had been for weeks after that. To see tears replaced by a new light made him more happy that she could ever imagine.

“You know” he began carefully, “this thing with Daniel… It doesn’t m-mean forgetting about Lincoln.” 

“Oh, I know. I know, and he knows, too.” 

“You’ve told him about— about Lincoln?” 

Fitz didn’t know why he’d been so surprised in the first place. Daisy wasn’t one to keep secrets, but it also meant she was more serious about Daniel than she’d let on in the first place. Which did explain the second guessing in the middle of the night, too. 

She huffed against his collarbone. “Of course I told him. It was like, a second date requirement story.” 

“Second date? I thought you guys only went on an official date a few days ago.”

“Oh we did. I just count all the hospital meetings as dates.” 

“Was Daniel aware of that, or did he just stare at you gaping the first f-few times you talked about your life and asked about his?” 

Daisy snickered. “He’ll catch up at some point. Sometimes, it feels like the dude is coming straight from the 40s, he’s so… polite and reserved, to a certain degree.”

To be fair, Fitz hadn’t spent enough time with the man to be the judge of that. What he’d come to know about the man however was enough to assure her that his intentions converted with hers. Fitz was no misogynistic man, and he was pretty sure Daisy would kick his arse if he ever tried to give Daniel any kind of pep talks. She was, after all, more than capable to take care of herself. But it didn’t prevent him from worrying about the other man’s motives at first, quickly reassured. He was quick to find out that Daniel was just as confusingly charmed by Daisy as most of the people gravitating around her were, and the sick love puppy eyes he sported whenever she was around were so loud it was a wonder Daisy hadn’t picked up on his feelings already. Funnily enough, she could be oblivious as hell whenever she wanted to. 

“He’s a good man,” Fitz said. “I mean, I t-think. It’s not like I’ve had the occasion to spend more than a few hours with him, and you were around all the time. But I like him, and I get why you like him. Oh, and he d-definitely likes you;” 

Daisy’s breath hitched. “Are you sure? Because I am. Sure that I like him, I mean” she stumbled over her words, something that happened rarely enough to be noted. Daisy Johnson did not hesitate to run her mouth, no matter the situation. 

“Daisy, he looks at you like you’re some sort of new— shiny new thing he really wants.” 

“Wow, what a poet” Daisy deadpanned. “Thank you for that very romantic metaphor, Leopold.”

Fitz groaned. “I never said I was good at metaphors. I’m trying to make a point here, you ass.” 

“Well if you do want to talk about ass” Daisy pipped in cheerfully “we can talk about Daniel’s. He’s got a very nice, squeezable ass.” 

“Ew, Daisy! T-too much details!” 

* * *

By the time the third day since he’d asked Jemma to go with him at the Stark gala rolled around, Fitz was crawling up the walls in frustration. He knew she needed time, and he understood —even if it didn’t prevent him from overthinking things— yet he couldn’t help but tear his hair out everytime he took a glance at his empty notifications. He felt like a teenager asking the girl he liked to prom, which to some extent was a kind of similar situation, and he was glad he never had to deal with this sort of stress when he was in high school. He was pretty sure he would have died from a heart attack before even reaching his mid twenties. His mum obviously knew, something that was both reassuring and incredibly pressuring. He was very aware of the side glances she threw his way thinking she was sleek enough not to disturb him, and not for the first time since this entire story had started, he was very grateful for Daisy’s silence.

However, as engrossed as he was in the idea of Jemma never replying to him and leaving him in the dark —he did get a little dramatic, left to his own device—, he hadn’t planned for Jemma, or at least a little part of her, to come directly to him. And when he opened the door after the doorbell rang, finding Hunter of all people under his mum’s porch, he simply blinked at the other man for a tad too long.

“Hey mate,” Hunter said, waving a pack of canned beers in front of his face. “Care to let me in?” 

Fitz’s mum had a dentist appointment, and she barely had time to greet Hunter with a confused look before she was off, kissing Fitz’s cheek and slamming the front door shut behind her. Left to his own devices with a man he’d gotten out with only once in his life and ended up pissed out drunk, Fitz wondered how his life had come to this point. 

“She seems nice,” Hunter said, making himself at home as he opened the fridge and put the beers in it, keeping two cans for them to drink. 

“Yeah, she is.” Fitz replied absentmindedly, watching him sit at the kitchen table. “Hunter, what are you doing here?” 

“Coming to see you.” 

The obliviousness of his reply was almost comical, especially coupled with the characteristic sound of their beer cans opening, and the loud rattle of him sliding the second can towards him on the wooden table. 

“I can see that.” Fitz sat, nodding in thanks and grabbing his beer. “But w-what are you _doing here_?” 

The emphasis on the last words made Hunter wince. “I came to see you before I leave.” 

“Wait, you’re leaving? As in…?”

“As in going back to Bobbi, yeah.” He threw him a pointed look from above his can. “You metaphorically kicking my arse at the pub kind of was the kick I needed to grow some balls. I shouldn’t have left, and I should have handled it differently from the start, really. My own insecurities aren’t an excuse to throw my entire life and the best thing that’s ever happened to me away,” He raised his can, “so cheers to that, mate.” 

Fitz snorted in his beer. “Yeah, okay. Cheers to that.” 

They drank in silence for a little while, Fitz watching Hunter examine the room. He felt weirdly at ease with the other man, even after only seeing him once. It had been a long time since he’d been able to call anyone a friend, but he had the weird feeling that he could when it came to Hunter. And it felt good.

“So” he said after a little while, “getting ready to be a father?” 

Hunter blanched a little. “Listen mate, she’s 4 months along. I’ve got another 5 months to stop freaking out about the whole thing.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” 

“No mate, for real. I don’t know babies, all I do know is that they require a lot of time and attention. Those things are not self sufficient, they require attention and care and love. Did you know that babies can feel your mood? What if I’m in a bad mood and my baby gets cranky because of it? Bobbi would kill me. She already barely deals with my bad moods as it is.” 

Fitz hid his smile behind his beer can. “See? You know a lot of things about babies already.” 

“And what if I drop it?” Hunter kept going, pointedly ignoring him. “They’re so _tiny_.”

“You’re not gonna drop it, Hunter.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I don’t. But you’re already w-worried about it, which means you’re gonna be extra cautious when you hold this baby. Hence, you’re n-not gonna drop it.” 

Hunter glared. “You’re just like Jemma, with your logic and all.” 

At the mention of Jemma, Fitz felt his stomach drop and his smile freeze. He’d forced himself not to think about her and not to ask about her since Hunter had walked through the door, but the mention of her name only emphasized how much he wanted to ask so badly. Three days felt like an awfully long time to wait for a response, but it somehow felt like years since he’d last laid eyes on her. 

“Ah” Hunter said, putting down his beer. “The fatidic name.” 

Fitz averted his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on mate. You’re as pale as a sheet. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not like Jemma’s faring any better.” 

“I don’t—” Fitz swallowed, licking his lips. “I don’t know if I should ask you about her. How is she d-doing.” 

Hunter smirked. “Come on, what would I be here for? I’m tired of seeing you guys pine over each other like high schoolers when it’s clear you have the hots for each other.”

“We don’t— she doesn’t—”

“Oh, Fitz, come on! You can’t be this daft.”

Fitz had half the mind to look offended, but Hunter kept on going as if he hadn’t heard the shocked gasp coming out of his lips. “Jemma likes you, as in like _like_ you. And I know you like her too, because mate, those heart eyes can’t really lie. And it drives me crazy to know that you guys are putting so many barriers between you, because I’ve done that before —hell, I’m doing it now and it’s the reason why I’m in this country in the first place. And all I want is for Jemma to finally be happy with someone she loves.” He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m not the one who should tell you about her dating history, but she deserves it. And you seem like a cool guy, which means I like you, and I figured you two could name your first child after me once you get married and all, since I’m basically doing all the work here.” 

Fitz gaped. “I don’t… w-what?” The stern look Hunter gave him in response made him frown. “What?” 

“You didn’t listen to a single word I said, did you?” Hunter asked. 

“I did! You’re just… n-not making any sense.” 

“I’m making bloody perfect sense!” 

“No you’re not!”

They stared at each other, blinking away their surprise at the sudden outburst.

“You do talk a lot better,” Hunter noted with a smirk. “You’re being a bloody annoying Scot again, I guess it’s a good sign.”

Fitz pursed his lips. “I’m not gonna reply t-to that.” 

“Good!” Hunter snarled back. 

“Good!”

They stared at each other in defiance for a few seconds, neither of them admitting defeat. It was Fitz who finally gave in first, dropping his gaze to the table in between them so hard his vision went a little white on the edges. 

“Is she… okay, then?” he asked slowly, busying himself with counting the knots in the wood and pretending his cheeks didn’t feel like they were on fire.

“Well, yeah. You did drop a bomb on her, to be honest with you, and I don’t think she’s slept a lot since then.” 

“I’m— I didn’t mean to be rude. Or overstep”

Hunter shook his head. “If you ask me, it was a good thing. You guys have been walking around the subject for far too long.” 

Fitz had no idea what ‘too long’ entailed. All he knew was that his heart ached whenever he thought about how much he missed Jemma, how much he longed to see her again —if she ever let him near her, that is— and how badly he wanted her to say _yes_. He knew he was pushing boundaries, he knew it wasn’t entirely professional to have asked this to his doctor of all people… but for the first time in what felt like forever, Fitz had followed his instinct, and his heart. And no matter how much it hurt, it also felt awfully good. He’d have to deal with the consequences a little later.

“Can we s-switch subjects?” Fitz all but begged. “If this is the l-last time we see each other in a long time, I w-wanna enjoy a beer with a friend.” 

Hunter’s face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. He was on his feet in seconds, walking towards the fridge to get another beer for the both of them.

* * *

“Have you ever fallen in love so bad it hurt?” Fitz asked from the couch that night, directing the question at his mum. She was sitting on the rocking chair opposite him, knitting something he recognized as a thick scarf. A little selfishly perhaps, he hoped she was knitting it for him. He loved how warm and fluffy her scarves always were. Whenever he felt bad, it was like wrapping himself in a fluffy cloud that smelled like home.

He’d crashed on the couch as soon as Hunter had gone home, trying to ignore his mum’s pointed glance when he all but wobbled all the way there. He might have drank a little bit too much, but it was all Hunter’s fault, really. 

“Why this question all of a sudden?” Linda asked, slowly putting her knitting needles down on her lap to look at him. From the way she folded her hands and leaned her body towards him a little, Fitz knew he was in for a deep conversation. He supposed he should have seen it coming when the invasive question had escaped his lips, but he’d been unable to swallow it down. (He blamed the beers).

Fitz shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Leo.”

“I fell in love with her, you know? I’m stupid.” 

He heard more than he saw his mum take a short inhale, letting it out slowly. He wished he could do the same, but his head was swarming and he was pretty sure he’d get dizzier if he held his breath at this very moment. 

“You’re not stupid, Leo.” his mum interrupted firmly.

He made a face, letting his arms fall back against his torso. “You’re only saying this because I’m your son.”

“I’m saying this because you’re a brilliant young man, no matter how much you like to put yourself down.” 

Fitz ignored her, shaking his head from right to left. The edges of his vision went a little fuzzy, and he frowned. “I fell in love with the wrong person. How stupid is that?”

“Didn’t we all, at some point in our lives?” 

Fitz could barely hide his surprise this time. “What…d- did you ever?”

His mum’s smile was sad when she looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes. “Leo… your father was not a good man. I’m forever grateful for meeting him because it gave me two amazing children, but our relationship wasn’t a good one.” 

Fitz’s face fell. His father had never been a good man, but he tended to forget that the first victim had been his mother. Whenever he and Daisy talked about their experience with him, they always focused on their own experience 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with him. I know… I k-know it hasn’t always been easy for you.” 

Linda shook her head firmly.

“I’m not. As I said, it gave me two amazing children, and I cannot imagine my life without you and your sister in it.” Her face turned a little serious as she looked up at him once more. “Don’t dwell on the past, Leo. Look towards your future, and what it has to offer. If you really love this woman… Then you have to ask yourself if it’s really a bad thing. Because from what I can see… I don’t remember seeing my little boy so happy before.” 

Fitz’s throat was too tight for him to formulate an answer. 

* * *

Later that night, Fitz rolled over in bed and closed his eyes, willing his body to go to sleep while simultaneously ignoring the need to reach out for his phone once more. His conversation with his mum had made things better and worse at the same time, and Fitz felt like his heart could burst out of his chest at any given moment. There was no way for him to ignore his attraction to Jemma, and he couldn’t exactly take a step back from his confession either. All he could do now was move forward, no matter what the future held. And for what felt like the first time in his life, Fitz was equally terrified and excited. Because there was no way he wouldn’t fight for this, and both Hunter and his mum seemed to encourage him in the same direction. 

As he rolled over on his back once more, his phone pinged on the nightstand. Fitz’s stomach dropped, and he carefully reached out, holding out his breath until his eyes were levelled with his phone and he could read the name on the screen. 

> _From: Jemma Simmons._

_Hey, Fitz. I hope I’m not waking you up, or bothering you. I’ve been thinking about what you offered, back on Wednesday, and I thought I could come? If you still want me, that is. I have no idea what i’m gonna wear, or if there even is a dress code, but… I really want to. And I’d love to come with you._

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Fitz fell asleep with a smile on his face and a warm heart. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you I was handling everything” Tony reminded Fitz for the third time in a handful of minutes, watching the younger man grimace at his own reflection. “Would you just relax and enjoy?” 
> 
> Somehow, in the handful of days he spent away from the man, Fitz always seemed to forget just how exuberant Tony Stark could be. But right there and now, squeezed between two tailors and a butler taking his measurements and babbling about his skin complexion, Fitz felt a little out of place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo everyone!!!   
> So, since I forgot to post last week's chapter and posted it late, I decided to post this one a little early to make up for it! Here comes the awaited gala, and some more Tony/Fitz (and Pepper/Jemma, hehehe...) moments that I loveeeed to write. Honestly, I could write an entire fic of Tony and Fitz interacting, and I'm not even joking. 
> 
> I hope you will like this chapter, because writing more than 2 or 3 characters interacting at the same time is not my strongest suit. Hopefully, it will come out nicely still! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments on this fic. I'm so happy to know you like it so far. I hope you will like the rest of it as well, even though we are traveling down a more angsty road for now... 
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, as I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments :) xx

“I told you I was handling everything” Tony reminded Fitz for the third time in a handful of minutes, watching the younger man grimace at his own reflection. “Would you just relax and enjoy?” 

Somehow, in the handful of days he spent away from the man, Fitz always seemed to forget just how exuberant Tony Stark could be. But right there and now, squeezed between two tailors and a butler taking his measurements and babbling about his skin complexion, Fitz felt a little out of place. 

“I didn’t think handling e-everything meant… all this.” Fitz gestured at the people buzzing around him, blushing a little when one of the tailors caught his hand and took yet another measurement of his arm. “I’m not… used to all this.” 

Tony waved around dismissively. “You’ll get used to it.” 

“I really don’t… I don’t think so, no.” 

Tony poured himself another drink, snorting a little. “Anyway, tell me a little bit more about this girlfriend of yours. She must be pretty special for you to invite her.” 

Fitz didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know that he was blushing crimson red, and it unfortunately didn’t escape Tony’s notice. “She’s not my g-girlfriend,” he countered immediately. “She’s just a friend. She’s— she’s my doctor, but we grew close in the months I’ve been c-consulting her. She’s really intelligent, and I think— I think she will fit right in.” 

The tailor pulled at his shirt a little bit, revealing some skin on his shoulders. Fitz felt himself tense, both from the conversation happening and the uncomfortable feeling on someone else’s fingers on his skin. 

“Ahhh. Just a friend,” Tony said, dragging the last word, “but you’d like more, don’t you?” 

Fitz kept his mouth shut, keeping his gaze firmly on the mirror in front of him. 

“Alright, keep your secrets. But just so you know, your blush is the best answer you could have given me.” 

“I don’t k-know what you’re talking about.” 

Tony smiled. “Sure you don’t.” He nodded in thanks at the tailor when he was done, waiting until they’d left the room and he was alone with Fitz once more before talking again. “In any case, Pepper would like to meet her. I might have let Jarvis do a few background checks on her, and turns out your girlfriend impresses my girlfriend, meaning she indirectly impresses me.” 

“She does?” Fitz asked, “Want to meet her, I mean.” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I think she’ll probably call her at some point in the week, arrange a shopping meeting or whatever. That’s the way Pepper operates, by the way, no need to get your panties in a twist and freak out. She takes people to dinner, or shopping in that case, and she finds out a little more about them.” 

Fitz had no idea what to do with that information. 

“So you’re telling me P-Pepper Potts is gonna take Jemma shopping.” 

Tony squinted at him, lowering his drink. “Yeah, why? What’s happening with your face, are you having a stroke?” 

“No? I d-don’t think so?” Checking himself in the mirror, Fitz forced himself to smile. Everything seemed in order. “Why would you ask that?” 

“I don’t know, you look… weird.” Tony said, swallowing the last drops of liquid from his drink and putting it down on the coffee table next to the chair he was sitting in. 

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “I don’t look weird. You’re just telling me Pepper Potts is gonna take Jemma shopping. I have the right to be a little impressed.” 

Tony’s mouth fell open in shock. “Oh I see how it is! You get to see me, in Scotland, every other week but my girlfriend’s the one who impresses you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Fitz smiled, delighted to see the look of absolute offense on the other man’s face, “your girlfriend is a very impressive p-person.” 

Tony threw his hands in the air. “I  _ am _ a very impressive person too!” 

“Yeah, I mean… you're okay.”

Fitz was mostly teasing at this point, but the offense in Tony’s entire demeanor was way too funny to pass. And when the ingenier looked up at him through the body length mirror, Fitz had to squeeze his lips shut to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“You know what?” Tony said, “you’re fired.”

Fitz chuckled. “I don’t work for you, Tony.” 

“Shit. You’re still fired.” 

* * *

Jemma had to pinch herself one more time, grimaçing when pain spread through her thigh. Pepper seemed to find the entire process hilarious, hiding her grin behind her steaming cup of coffee. 

“Are you… sure?” Jemma asked once more, certain that Pepper Potts(!!!) was going to laugh her offer off in a minute. There was no way her life had just turned into this. 

“Pretty sure, yes” Pepper replied, ever so amused. “That is, if you want, of course.” 

If she wanted? Did Pepper freaking Potts just ask Jemma Simmons of all people if she wanted to go shopping on Stark Industries, right after having lunch with her? 

“I just… why me?” 

Pepper put down her cup of tea slowly. “You’re Mr Fitz’s guest, for one, and from what Tony gathered… you’re a young prodigy yourself. I would love to introduce you to a few people during the gala, and you strike me like a young woman who likes to make an impression.” 

Jemma felt herself blush furiously. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Pepper replied with a smirk. “After all, I’m much the same, and I do feel like we have a lot of things in common. Finding a way to make ourselves remarkable in a room full of testosterones might just be one of them.” 

Yes, Jemma thought as she took a sip out of her cup of tea, this might as well be a dream. But it was something she definitely didn’t want to wake up from, if it included lunch and shopping in New York with Pepper Potts. And a little later on during the day, as Jemma twirled on herself to look at the beautiful —and awfully expensive— dress she was wearing, Jemma barely held herself back from pinching her thigh once more. 

“Do you like it?” Pepper asked, nodding appreciatively. 

Jemma only gaped. “It’s gorgeous. I don’t remember ever wearing something like this before in my life,” she admitted in a small voice. 

“You’re gonna make an impression that’s for sure. Fitz is probably going to lose his cool, too.”

Jemma felt her heart drop. “Yeah, well… it’s not really like this, between us,” she explained. 

“Isn’t it?” 

Pepper’s curiosity seemed picked, and Jemma couldn’t hold back her snort. “Yeah, it’s not. As crazy as it seems.”

“But you wish it would be,” Pepper finished for her. 

“Maybe, yeah.”

The look Pepper threw her was both knowing and kind. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know.”

Jemma sighed. “I’m his doctor.”

“And I was Tony’s assistant. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t the best decision I’ve ever made.” She stopped, squinting at her. “Please don’t tell Tony that.” 

Jemma chuckled. “I won’t, I promise.” It wasn’t like she would ever talk directly to Tony Stark, anyway.

“But that being said, I can understand why you would feel this way. Professionalism is important, but is it worth losing something that could be an amazing adventure over? Is there no way for you to hand his case over to one of your colleagues?” 

It wasn’t the first time Jemma had thought about it, actually. She’d already started looking around for some of her colleagues that would be able to take over Fitz’s case, but the mere thought of handing him over to someone else made her heart ache. It was definitely something that she needed to talk over with him anyway, if they both decided that this little spark between them was worth exploring. But it would involve actually talking with Fitz first, and when Jemma Simmons was no coward, the mere idea made her stomach swoop with anxiety. 

“I thought about it,” she admitted finally, smothering the front of her dress nervously. “I just don’t know… I don’t know if we want the same thing, that’s all.” 

Pepper raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in disbelief. “I can’t speak about what I haven’t seen yet, but I have ears. And Tony seems pretty convinced that there is room for more between the two of you.” 

“Everyone seems to think that” Jemma mumbled. 

“Maybe it’s a sign, then?”

Jemma bit the inside of her lip. “Perhaps.” 

* * *

On the night of the gala, Fitz was buzzing with anxiety. His tailor made suit felt wonderful, way more comfortable than he’d thought in the first place, but it didn’t prevent him from feeling like his skin was crawling. His latest session with Jemma had been weird, something they’d both felt and eventually laughed about. Jemma had blushed deliciously when he’d talked about the gala, revealing that she’d chosen her outfit and was feeling probably just as nervous as he did. It had felt nice, to be able to talk so freely about something they had planned together, the both of them just as nervous for the event. 

Fitz was pretty sure he hadn’t dreamed the way Jemma’s gaze had lingered on him through the entire session, the tension between the two of them so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. As he walked home —Daisy was with Daniel, and he finally felt comfortable enough walking around Glasgow by himself again— Fitz wondered idly if the gala would finally be the perfect occasion for the both of them to talk about the noticeable shift in their relationship. When nothing had happened per say, their gazes seemed to linger, filled with unsaid things, their touches had gotten bolder and the sharp intakes of breath Jemma took whenever Fitz’s digits grazed her own told him that he wasn’t only imagining things. He felt like he was seconds away from bursting every time he walked around her, and he had no idea how he’d deal with an entire gala by her side. Hopefully, Jemma wouldn’t wear a gorgeous outfit that would make his heart spin —he knew it was a silly wish, because she didn’t need a long dress to take his breath away— and wouldn’t act like she wanted to devour him entirely. It was going to go just fine. 

“Are you ready?” Tony asked from behind him. 

Fitz shrugged awkwardly. “I guess so, yeah.” 

Surprisingly, the amount of people crowded in Stark Industries that night did not overwhelm Fitz. From one person to the other, Tony introduced him to the biggest heads of the industry. He never allowed them to linger around Fitz though, cutting them short whenever he felt him tense by his sides. Fitz was more than grateful, as he slowly but surely got restless at the idea of Pepper and Jemma arriving soon. 

“Relax,” Tony whispered at some point, shoving a drink in the younger man’s hand. Fitz looked down at the champagne, the dance of the bubble bursting strangely hypnotic. “They’re gonna be here any minute now. You know ladies, always making themselves wanted.”

Fitz wanted to reply that he had no idea, that it was the first time he actually went on a date, which couldn’t even be considered a date. He wanted to snap at Tony, because nervousness was clawing its way under his skin, but he knew that being a little shit wouldn’t solve a thing. His throat felt like it would close up against his own accord and suffocate him at any given moment. 

“Aaaand here they come!” 

Tony’s voice pulled him from his daydream, and Fitz’s head snapped up. The moment his eyes fell on Jemma though, his breath caught in his throat and his lungs felt like they’d expanded ten sizes. She was wearing a dark blue dress that shined like a diamond under the lights of the room, rubbing against the floor as she walked. The dress almost looked handmade, as if it had been sawed directly on her skin, marrying her curves in an almost tantalizing way. The upper part was covered in lace arranged in flower shapes, and the tissue looked incredibly soft to the touch as it fell down her body like a cascade. It was covered in small little sequins that caught the light as she turned around and caught sight of them, waving a little timidly. Fitz desperately wanted to take it out of her and never let her go. Suddenly, the entire room felt too crowded, too bright and not intimate enough for this moment he wished he could cherish another way.

“Wow,” Tony whispered, nudging Fitz with his elbow. “Is that your sweet lady? Good choice, man.” 

“Uh,” Fitz replied in a gasp. He had to clear his throat before anything else, “Yeah, yeah. That’s Doctor Jemma Simmons.” 

“Doctor Jemma Simmons. Why is that name ringing a bell?” 

Fortunately for Fitz, he didn’t have to wonder much on the question because soon enough, both girls were standing in front of them. Fitz barely had time to get his breathing under control, and he idly wondered if Jemma would see how affected he was by her presence.

“Tony,” Pepper said with a smile, bending over to kiss his lips sweetly. Tony wrapped an arm around her waist, eyes shining as looked at his girlfriend. 

Pepper’s red dress looked absolutely amazing, if Fitz could say so himself. But he was more impressed by the fact that he was seeing her for the first time in person, and Pepper didn’t waste a single second before handing out her hand for him to shake. 

“I’ve heard so much about you, Dr. Fitz,” she said immediately. Her smile was warm and genuine, and Fitz felt immediately at ease. 

“Please, just Fitz,” he shook her hand, loving the firm grip on his fingers. Many people that very night had been hesitant to shake his bad hand, and others had a sluggish grip. “It’s a p-pleasure to meet you too, Miss Potts.”

“Please, call me Pepper. I’ve heard wonderful things about you from those two, and I cannot wait to get to know you a little better.” 

Fitz felt himself flush, glancing back at Tony and Jemma. They were both talking quietly, and Fitz felt his stomach do a weird little flip. When did his life become such a crazy show? Around them, people talked and danced and drank cocktails, buzzing around their little social group. A few people he recognized from various submits and articles he’d read once upon a time were looking their way, extremely oblivious in their want to be discrete. 

“I’m a professional physiotherapist,” Jemma teased with a smirk, bringing Fitz’s attention back to her. “I think I can work my way around most of the people here tonight.”

Fitz desperately tried to ignore the shiver that ran through his body at Jemma’s confident tone. She looked like she belonged there, right next to Tony Stark and Pepper Potts as they talked about rehabilitation and prosthetics. 

“Is this how you met Fitz, then?” Pepper pipped in, looking between the two of them with a smirk. There was probably more to the story that Fitz didn’t know about, because Jemma bit the inside of her cheek at the remark. 

“Yes, it is actually.”

“You’ve been on a wonderful journey together already,” Tony said as he looked at Fitz, almost gentle in his tone. “I know recovery isn’t linear, and it’s not always easy. Being surrounded by good people is extremely important.” 

It was something Tony Stark rarely talked about, something that had made a scandal a few years back. Right after taking over Stark Industries and before handing the company over to Pepper as CEO, Tony Stark had been in a serious car accident that resulted in him getting a pacemaker. Tony had left Pepper handle Stark Industries for a whole year after the incident, disappearing from the public eye as he recovered, and many media had thrown him the stone for that as well. In retrospect, Fitz realized that he totally understood the need for fresh air after a life changing event. 

“Jemma’s been amazing,” he said, catching her eye. “She’s helped me so much, I don’t think I could have done any of it without her.” 

Jemma shook her head. “That’s not true. You were strong willed, and you wanted to get better. A lot of it was just you, Fitz. And I’m very proud of you. We all are.” 

For a moment there, Fitz got lost in the intensity of Jemma’s honey brown eyes. It felt like his entire body was filled with butterflies as they stared at each other, this unspoken thing between them getting way too heavy to ignore now. There was no way for either of them to deny how much this night would change their relationship, for better or worse. 

Tony eventually cleared his throat, grabbing a petit four as a waiter walked past them with a tray and effectively breaking the thick tension between Fitz and Jemma. “You wouldn’t want to work for me, would you?” He asked the latter with a charming smile. 

Jemma let out a little laugh, the apple of her cheeks reddening at the disguised praise. Fitz found it absolutely fascinating, especially with the way it made her freckles stand out even more. She spared a fleeting glance at him, and shook her head. “I already have a job, and I happen to love it. But thank you for the opportunity. It really means a lot.” 

Letting out a small huff, Tony looked between Fitz and Jemma. “I swear, you two British people are gonna make me get white hair.” 

“You already have white hair darling,” Pepper interrupted with a smile, kissing his cheek.

“I do not!” 

All the while, Fitz couldn’t take his eyes off Jemma. Sensing his gaze, she eventually looked back at him, and Fitz felt his heart swell ten sizes bigger when she smiled back almost shyly. How did his life come to this? Half a year ago, Fitz was almost certain his life was over before it even got to properly begin. Now, as he looked around the room and saw how much things had changed for him, it looked almost too good to be true. Tony Stark regularly inviting himself over at his mum’s house was something alright, but Fitz didn’t think anything would ever top the opportunity of being at Jemma Simmons’ arms at this very moment. 

“Would you care for a d-dance?” he blurted out suddenly, his gaze drawn to the few figures slowly moving in the middle of the reception floor. “I mean… If you want, of course,” he corrected himself almost immediately, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “No p-pressure, obviously.” 

Jemma looked surprised, but her confusion was eventually replaced by something Fitz couldn’t quite decipher. Fitz felt like the Earth was about to open up and swallow him whole as she spared a glance at Pepper, who nodded imperceptibly. The blonde immediately wrapped her arms around Tony’s to guide him towards the dancefloor as well, winking at them as she walked past. 

Jemma caught his bad hand, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze. Fitz didn’t even feel bad about it, squeezing back tentatively. “I’d love to,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

Fitz felt like his feet were barely touching the ground as he walked with Jemma towards the dancefloor, passing by the numerous couples already gathered there. They caught a few people glancing their way, curious and a little amused, but Fitz couldn’t take his eye off Jemma for more than a couple of seconds. Her dress felt like it was made of an entire galaxy as it caught the light of the room, and for a moment Fitz wondered if she had any idea how gorgeous she was to his eyes. 

“I actually d-don’t know how to dance,” he whispered a little shyly when she stopped in a corner of the dance floor, spinning around to face him and flush their bodies together. 

Jemma smiled. “Just follow my lead, yeah?” she said, eyes shining as she looked up at him. Fitz wanted to kiss her so badly.

“Always.” 

As it turned out, dancing wasn’t that complicated with the right partner. Fitz’s hand was a little shaky as he lay it on Jemma’s back a little hesitantly, but Jemma only snuggled a little closer in response. When he looked down at her, plunging his gaze into Jemma’s, Fitz could only see the way her eyes sparkled under the lights of the room. Her lips were stretched into a smile, and Fitz couldn’t help but reciprocate with one of his own. 

“Are you having fun t-tonight?” he asked as they slowly moved on the dancefloor, totally unaware of the rest of the world. Fitz was pretty sure that if a storm had been occuring outside, he wouldn’t have been able to even realize it, too mesmerized by the woman in his arms.

Jemma nodded eagerly. “So much fun. Thank you so much for inviting me, Fitz. It’s been a pleasure, and I’ve had such a lovely time.” 

Fitz felt himself flush a little at the praise. Jemma’s proximity on top of it was making him a little lightheaded, and he didn’t think the glass of champagne he’d had before helped his case in any way. The music almost seemed to drown in the beating of his heart, loud in his ears as he looked down at Jemma’s lips for what felt like the hundredth time this evening. All it would take for him to kiss her was such a simple movement of the head, and for a split second, Fitz imagined himself doing it. What would it feel, to finally taste her lips and breathe in her scent as he finally let himself  _ do _ and  _ feel _ the things he’d dreamed off for months now?

Before he could, though, someone cleared their throat not too far from them, making them both jump slightly in surprise. When Jemma turned around, a little breathless and definitely flushing all the way down her collarbone, they both found a very excited engineer standing a few feet from them.

“Fitz said you had a wonderful idea on how to help us with our new prosthetics,” Tony said, barely even holding back his excitement as he looked between Fitz and Jemma. 

Fitz tried his best not to act too disappointed when Jemma pulled back from him, missing her warmth immediately. He would certainly not be the one that would stand between her and science, because he knew how much it meant to her and he understood it entirely. Somehow, Pepper’s pointed glance his way still made him feel like a teenager and blush like one, too. But as he watched her talk to Tony, so polite and so overly  _ English _ as her eyes shined with an excitement he’d never seen before, Fitz couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad they’d been interrupted. Watching Jemma work was something he’d had the privilege of doing for the last few months, but he’d never truly seen her talk as excitedly as she did with Tony at this very moment. 

“I don’t know why he’s been hiding you from me all this time,” Tony eventually said when Jemma was done explaining what she had in mind, snapping Fitz’s attention back to the trio by his side. Most of the couples had moved away from the dancefloor now as the night progressed, and Fitz felt like a weight he hadn’t realized was there was being lifted from his shoulders. “You two could do wonders at Stark Industries, you know that?” 

Pepper did her best to refrain her eye roll, but Jemma didn’t seem phased by the idea at all. “I would have loved to, a few years back,” she admitted with a warm smile, throwing a shy glance at Fitz. “But I have to say, I’m very happy at my job now.”

“Is there any way I can convince the two of you? I’ve already told Fitz all he needs to do is snap his fingers —metaphorically, of course, and he’d have a job. New York has its perks, after all. I’d be happy to provide you both with apartment accommodations in the Stark Tower, all you need to do is say the word.” 

Tony’s tenacity wasn’t surprising after all those months spent trying to get him to stop joking around about every little thing he found funny at his mum’s apartment, but Fitz was pleasantly surprised to see that Jemma didn’t seem phased either. The way she seemed to fit in his life, even the craziest parts, made Fitz’s heart flutter with excitement. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied carefully, chuckling when Tony gasped in fake outrage at her second refusal. “Thank you, Tony. And I really mean it, not just for the job offer but also for flying me here and inviting me to the gala tonight. I’ve had a lovely time, and I was really happy to be able to help you out a little.”

For all the smokes and mirrors and how much he liked to pretend, Tony Stark was definitely a softie at her. His entire expression changed as Jemma thanked him, and he was nearly crushing her into a hug by the end of her tirade. “Thank you for agreeing to come tonight, the both of you,” he looked at Fitz from above her shoulder as well, winking. “Now, off you go. I have a few people to terrorize and business to make. But there’s a lovely balcony over there, and I think you both need a little quiet time on your own.” 

Fitz knew his face was as red as Pepper’s dress when Tony not-so-subtly dragged his girlfriend away, leaving him and Jemma alone once more. Jemma seemed amused though, and she didn’t hesitate for more than a couple of seconds before taking his arms and dragging him all the way to the balcony. 

“So,” she said as the glass doors slid shut behind them, the chilly New York air enveloping them both. “I’ve had a very lovely night, Fitz.” 

Her tone was soft, and as he looked up at her, Fitz’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t realized she was that close, and as he inhaled a little shakily, he realized he could smell the hints of her floral perfume. 

“M-me too,” he said finally, trying to take in her face at this very moment. With the lights from the city all around them, she looked absolutely stunning. It felt almost surreal to be standing there above New York with her, and Fitz felt dizzy with it. “I’m really glad you came.” 

“Of course. You know I always wanted to, right?” 

Fitz had heard it from Hunter, but it felt incredibly different to hear it from Jemma directly. “I assumed, yeah. I was n-never entirely sure, though.” 

“I’ve always wanted to,” Jemma assured, balancing her weight on one of her sides. “It just got a little… complicated.” 

“Why?” 

“Because of my job, mostly.” 

Fitz hummed. “We’re both consenting adults.” 

“Did you know,” Jemma interrupted, looking at him through half lidded eyes, “That until 2013, the General Medical Council of the United Kingdom discouraged physicians from having romantic relationships with any former patients?” 

Fitz was a little taken aback by the confession. He’d never really thought about it, to be perfectly honest, even though he logically knew that there might have been laws against his and Jemma’s relationship in the first place. He had no idea however that it was possible for said laws to apply to any  _ former _ patients, which made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. 

“You said until 2013,” he pointed out with a little less assurance than before. The space between him and Jemma seemed greater than before now, even if it was no more than a few centimeters. 

“It changed, now. There are a few more guidelines included though, but it wasn’t what I meant by that Fitz.” 

Her voice was gentle, but Fitz felt his insides squeeze uncomfortably all the same. “What are you s-saying, Jemma?” 

“There is…. There is something called the Florence Nightingale effect. It is… It is a trope where a caregiver falls in love with a patient in between sessions, even if there is very little communication outside of those sessions.” 

Fitz’s throat felt dry. “I’m f-familiar with the effect.”

“Maybe that’s all it is?” Jemma asked suddenly, her eyes a little shiner than before as she looked up at him. Fitz could practically see all the lights of the city reflected into her pupils, and in any other circumstances he knew his heart would have jumped in his chest in a totally different way. “Maybe this thing, between us… Maybe that’s all it is, Fitz. I’m your doctor, and—”

“Is that what you really t-think, Jemma?” 

The mere question made his entire soul ache, but Fitz had to ask it. All the lights of New York seemed pale in comparison to Jemma's smile, and as he looked at her at this very moment, Fitz realized that Jemma’s smile was the only light in his ever so grey life. To lose her light and her presence in his life would surely kill him, and he didn’t know if he’d have the strength to go through the process of grieving her. He’d been brave and found a will to live again after feeling like his life was over, but he certainly knew he didn’t have the strength to do it all over again with his broken heart. 

“No, it’s not,” Jemma whispered finally, pursing her lips slightly. “All I want to do is give in and throw myself head first into this,” she gestured between the both of them, “but I’m scared, Fitz. I’m so scared, because you’re my patient and I love my job, and I can’t choose between the two of you. I just don’t have the strength for that, Fitz.” 

“What if you don’t have to?” Fitz asked then, taking a step towards her. Jemma did not shy away from him, simply staring at him as he moved close and crowded her against the edge of the balcony. If she’d wanted to, it would have only taken a step towards the right for her to fly away, but Jemma didn’t move a single inch. Their chests were now practically touching, and the tension crippling between them was so thick it felt like they could suffocate in it. 

“Fitz…”

“No one would have to know, Jemma.” 

In retrospective, neither Fitz or Jemma could have been able to say who moved first. The next thing they knew though, Fitz was leaning into Jemma’s space and their lips met. 

The first touch of their mouths wasn’t at all like Fitz would have pictured it, for all the times that he did. It was softer and my shyer than he’d imagined, for a start, and the small gasp Jemma let out when their bodies flushed together was much nicer than anything he could have ever imagined. In a small part of his brain, FItz realized that he’d hoped for the kiss to be bad and bland, because it would have made things so much simpler between the two of them. 

As it was however, the simple contact of Jemma’s lips against his made his head spin and his heart jump in his chest. It felt like drinking water after walking through a desert, or seeing the sun after days spent in the dark, the feeling of Jemma’s soft lips was everything he’d ever been craving for. And as he moved a little against her, opening up for her tongue to meet his ever so slowly as if they were both afraid to break the spell, Fitz felt like his entire body was on fire. Pure molten lava was cursing through his veins as he gave in for the first time in months and kissed the woman he was already so desperately in love with. 

“Fitz,” Jemma whispered when she broke the kiss, pulling away from him. He tried to follow her movement, but she slid away too quickly for him to grab onto her. “We can’t, I’m sorry, we can’t.”

“But w-why? Why, Jemma?”

When she turned to face him, Fitz couldn’t ignore the tears in her eyes, and his heart ached to rush to her side and cradle her against his chest. “I need…. there’s too much at stake for the both of us.” 

“Jemma, you can’t j-just run away!” 

She pursed her lips, looking away just long enough to collect herself. 

“I’m your doctor, Fitz.”

“And I’m a g-grown ass man who knows the difference between admiration and gratitude and love,” Fitz replied in a colder voice than before. “But you’ve got it all figured it out already, d-don’t you?” 

“That’s not fair,” she replied weakly. “Fitz, I don’t…”

“No but that’s life, isn’t it? You made that perfectly clear.” 

Suddenly, the cold and open air felt too suffocating for Fitz as he looked around for a day out, desperate to just escape this situation both metaphorically and physically. His heart felt like it was physically breaking inside of his chest and his stomach like he’d just swallowed a thousand stones. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there, and fast. 

“Fitz, wait!” 

But Fitz had heard enough, and with a shake of his head, he disappeared inside once more. Jemma watched him go, heart heavy and eyes wet. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time Jemma flew home to Glasgow the next day, her tears were dry but her heart felt heavier than the previous evening. She had tried to text Fitz several times without success, and by the time the private plane landed in Glasgow and the hostess sent her off, she’d given up on trying to talk to him before their next session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo!!! here comes chapter 9!
> 
> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments on this fic, especially following the previous chapter. I know I've broken some hearts, but please trust me when I say I have promised a happy ending and i will deliver. But it wouldn't be Fitzsimmons without a few things getting in their way... would it? 
> 
> Here comes another chapter from Jemma's point of view, to understand her decision a little better. I hope you will like it!! :) 
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter, as I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments!! xx

By the time Jemma flew home to Glasgow the next day, her tears were dry but her heart felt heavier than the previous evening. She had tried to text Fitz several times without success, and by the time the private plane landed in Glasgow and the hostess sent her off, she’d given up on trying to talk to him before their next session. Arriving in her now painfully empty house did nothing to ease her heavy heart, and Jemma bit back a sob at the sight of Hunter’s stupid “Kiss the cook” apron hanging from the back of her office chair. Her living-room felt bare without Hunter’s stuff laying around, no matter how much she’d groaned at him in the last month for being such a mess, and Jemma ended up face down against her pillows sobbing her heart out once more. 

She realized she’d fallen asleep when she woke up in the middle of the night, unable to just roll over and fall back asleep. She eventually dragged herself to the bathroom and took a warm bath, hoping to relax her tense muscles in the process. She took time to wash off her face carefully to erase any traces of makeup she couldn’t have gotten with a simple wipe, trying to ignore the weight on her shoulders when she realized her phone screen was still empty of any notification. The warm water was helping her body relax a little, but she had to remind herself to breathe deeply several times. She unclenched her jaw, rolled her head on her shoulders slowly, and tried not to think about how messed up her life had just turned out to be in the last couple of days. 

Mindful of the time, she grabbed her cell phone anyway, trying desperately to brush off the anxiety crawling at the bottom of her stomach. It was almost time for Hunter to wake up in America, and she remembered how anxious he’d been before leaving the flat and heading to the airport. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Lance Hunter was known to bottle things up until they exploded, something that Jemma remembered vividly from their time in college, and this time had been no exception. Whether or not he’d exploded the moment the plane landed in America or when he’d gotten back to his and Bobbi’s place, Jemma was restless to know how it went.

> _ To: Hunter.  _

_ Hey Hunter. I hope everything went well with you and Bobbi. Please let me know if you’ll be using my spare room any longer! But in all seriousness, I hope things went well. Text me back? xx _

She hit send, and felt her entire body stiffen when the mobile vibrated in her hand not more than a minute later. She quickly realized that none of the texts she’d sent Fitz had been answered, but the small notification indicator told her she had received a new email. Sinking deeper into the warm water of her bath, Jemma balanced her phone against the palm of her hand and clicked on the email app. 

> _From: Sandy Ruald (sandyr5@gmail.com)_ _  
> __To: Jemma Simmons (drjemmasimmons@gmail.com)_

_ Subject: Leopold Fitz _

_ Hey Jemma! I’ve looked at the file you’ve sent me. I can totally take on Leopold Fitz’s case, if you want. All I need is to discuss with him, see if he agrees Everything alright? I’ve never seen you pass over a patient before. Did something happen? We need to grab a cuppa some time! xx  _

With a small hiccup, Jemma bit back a fresh new wave of tears. She’d almost forgotten about sending a quick email to Sandy to arrange the transfer of Fitz’s file before heading to the Stark Industries gala. She’d tried to look for the best of her colleagues to take care of Fitz —not that any of them were bad, but she’d immediately realized who Fitz would be the most comfortable with— and asked them if they would take on the patient for personal reasons. When it wasn’t exactly illegal for her to date a former patient, she’d learned in her research, it was better for some time to pass before anything happened between her and Fitz. All she had to hope for now was that she hadn’t ruined everything between them at the gala, and that Fitz would hear her out. 

But as she went straight back to bed, not feeling like doing anything else at the moment, Jemma realized that it might just end up being the most complicated thing she will have to achieve in the near future.

* * *

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Jemma was feeling so nauseous she felt like she was going to throw up before even taking the bus to the hospital. A few deep breaths as she looked at herself in the mirror of her bathroom helped her collect herself, at least just enough not to be late at work. As always, she had a few patients to go through before getting to see Fitz, but she knew her stomach would feel funny for the entire morning still. And by the time she’d gone through all of the people before Fitz, she had to wipe off the sweat gathered in the palm of her hand on her jeans. Suddenly, as she stood in front of the closed door of her cabinet and just a few meters away from the man she desperately wanted to see, Jemma realized she could have used a little encouragement from Hunter. She imagined the way he would roll his eyes, putting his big hands on her shoulders to shake her a little —he always used to do that, back when they were kids— as he stared into her eyes and kissed her forehead with a sigh. 

Jemma thought back to a simpler time when she was young and full of wonder for the mysteries of the world, annoyed at how much Hunter teased her for her restlessness. Now that she looked back at all the furtive glances he’d thrown her way and sad smiles when she explained some things he probably didn’t understand about the stars, she realized how much he’d tried to protect her from herself. Jemma had always burned with a desire to see the world through her hopeful eyes, and Hunter was the slap of reality she so desperately needed back when she was 16 and so desperately eager to throw herself into the big outside world. 

“Doctor Fitz?” she called as she opened the door of her cabinet. She had to brace herself before she looked up, gripping the door of her cabinet so tight her phalanges protested. 

There was however no response from the other side of the waiting room. As she looked up, Jemma realized that the place was empty, save from a familiar face at the other end of it. 

Jemma let out a shaky breath. “Daisy.” 

There were a few reasons why Daisy would stand there today instead of her brother, but somehow Jemma’s mind immediately jumped to the most terrifying conclusion of them all. 

“Is everything alright? Is Fitz… Is he alright?” 

Inexplicably, Daisy’s eyes turned a little softer. “Yes, he’s fine. Nothing to worry about, I promise.” 

“But he’s not coming today,” Jemma supplied. Her shoulders slumped, and she bit back the need to yell out of frustration. Her legs were weak enough all of a sudden for her to sit down heavily on one of the plastic seats of the waiting room. Her eyes fell on the floor as her emotions poured their venom into her veins, paralyzing her thoughts and spiralling into another self loathing moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Daisy offered as she sat back next to her, folding her hands on her lap. Idly, as she looked up at the other woman, Jemma realized that her face was bare of any makeup for the first time since she’d met her. Her eyes looked a little puffy, sole testimony of her sadness. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s an idiot too.” 

Jemma grimaced. “Where is he?” 

“He never came home from New York, after the Stark gala. He didn’t tell me or our mom why, but we’re not stupid enough to believe it didn’t have to do with you and how nervous he was about the entire evening.”

Jemma felt like her entire world was crashing down on her at once. Her gaze narrowed, and the entire room spinned on its axis as she stared at the ugly white flooring of the hospital. “He never came home?” 

“No. He called our mum to explain that he needed some time to himself, and that Stark had offered him a job and a place to stay. She tried to get him to at least swing by to get a few things, but… well. Fitz is surprisingly pig-headed when he wants to be. He gets that from our dad, I think, because I can be the same.” 

“Daisy,” Jemma whispered, blinking away treacherous tears threatening to spill past her lashes, “I’m so sorry, I never wanted to…” She trailed off, unable to keep going. The lump in her throat felt bigger than before, and Jemma wondered when she’d stopped breathing correctly. Her lungs almost seemed too small for her body now. 

Daisy nodded. “I know. But I need to understand, Doc. I know Fitz had feelings for you, but I was sure… I was sure you shared those feelings. I’m not blind, I can see the way you looked at him like he was the sun on a rainy Scottish day.”

If she concentrated hard enough, Jemma felt like she could still feel the faint taste of champagne on Fitz’s lips. The way his lips fit against hers so perfectly, tasting like alcohol and all those sweet appetizers he’d managed to grab when he thought no one was looking. How could she live with the knowledge of his lips, of the way their mouths fit so perfectly together and the shivers that ran down her spine when the stubble of his chin grazed her sensitive skin? The pain of being unable to forget suddenly felt greater even than the idea of never seeing him again for a moment, and Jemma wondered if Daisy could hear how fast her heart beat. Could she tell it was broken, scattered in tiny little pieces the moment her brother had decided to stay in New York?

“I never meant for this to happen,” she whispered, pushing her face in her now shaky hands. All of her efforts to hide her emotions had been thrown out of the window the moment Daisy had appeared instead of her brother, but Jemma still hated herself for showing just how much she was affected. What would her patients think, if they ever saw her like this? “I messed it all up, at the gala.” 

“Maybe there is still something to save. I know my brother, and I know how much he cares. He wears his heart on his sleeve, but he backs away before he gets too vulnerable.” Daisy sighed, rubbing two fingers against her temple. “There is no way you two geniuses can’t fix it all. Running away like this… it’s not like him.” 

Jemma let out a small, hollow laugh. “It’s all my fault.”

“I’m not gonna say it isn’t, Doc. But something tells me you two need to figure it out together, and blaming yourself isn’t going to help shake things up.” 

Logically, Jemma knew Daisy was right. She needed to do something, and that  _ something _ implied working on a way to contact Fitz. Her cellphone felt almost too heavy in the pocket of her blazer, weighty reminder that it was all in her hands now. 

“I’m gonna call him,” she eventually said, “again.”

Daisy hummed. “And then again, until he replies. Right?” 

The look in her eyes told Jemma that it certainly wouldn’t be easy. Not that she ever thought it would be, anyway.

Jemma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. I just need to fix a few things first.” 

She didn’t tell Daisy about Sandy, and her plan to hand over Fitz’s case. There were a few things she needed to do first, and she couldn’t without Fitz’s own accord either. 

“This is not the only reason I’m here,” Daisy said as she straightened up. “Daniel is on his way for his session, but he’s going to move back to New York next week. I’m not sure he told you yet, but he’s been offered the possibility to test the new line of Stark Industries prosthetics. The ones Fitz helped design, actually.” There was no mistaking the proud grin that spread her lips, and Jemma felt her heart clench in her chest. “He wanted to go back for a little while now, but I feel like I’ve been holding him back.”

In a weird, almost fatal way, it felt like all of Jemma’s life crumbled all at once around her. After losing Fitz and Hunter, although in a very different way, she was now losing one of her regular patients that she’d grown to love working with as much as talking about many diverse subjects. 

“Are you going to follow him?” She asked Daisy, throat tight. 

The small, almost secretive smile Daisy gave her in return was all the answer she needed. “I think so, yeah. It’s all very new, but… I’ve been staying for Fitz and Daniel, and I long to go back to the US anyway. Scotland will always be my second home, but I’m an American girl and I belong there. I’ve always wanted to live in New York, too!” 

_ It must feel nice _ , Jemma thought as Daisy babbled about her life in America,  _ to know where you belong. _ Instead, she just smiled, offering Daisy the sympathies she was expecting with her heart in her throat. 

“I’m happy for you, Daisy, I really am. Daniel is a great man, and I’m sure you will be very happy together.”

Jemma tried very hard not to think about how lonely she felt at this very moment. 

* * *

Friday was her day off, and Jemma used this opportunity to go shopping. The emptiness of her fridge almost matched the one in her heart, and Jemma would have rolled her eyes at the mental poetry if she wasn’t feeling so exhausted. A good and restful night’s sleep had been out of the picture since the gala, and the fact that Fitz hadn’t once returned her calls only emphasized her restlessness. She’d tried exercising a little bit more than usual to tire herself out, but it had only brought her back pain and sore muscles that didn’t help in the slightest. Not for the first time in almost a week, Jemma wished she could put her feelings aside for at least a little while. 

The ride to Tesco was short, and Jemma hopped off the bus after double checking her watch and making sure she still had time to swing by her favorite bakery on the way. Her stomach rumbled loudly at the mere thought of her favorite pastries, and she almost walked straight into a pool of water out of pure distraction. Her worn out Converses would most probably have ended up soaked if she hadn’t jumped to the side, and Jemma added this to the mental list of things she didn’t need to darken her mood even further. The sky was grey and full of clouds when she entered the bakery, greeting the people waiting in line as she patiently queued for her turn. By the time she walked out with two muffins in a small bag, small drops of water fell on her forehead and a quick look at the sky told her that thunder would most likely be raging in no time.

Tesco was only two streets away from the bakery, and Jemma adjusted her coat around herself as she walked. It had been a while since she’d done proper groceries shopping, and she’d been happy enough to let Hunter do that for her when he was crashing at her place. Taking care of herself had never been Jemma’s strongest suit, comically enough. She was glad to take care of others, through her job and in her daily life, but she was never too keen on self care. Sure, she did make sure she ate well and healthy enough —although there were times when she ordered way too much takeout, but no one had to know— but apart from the obvious care of her outside appearance, Jemma had never been really interested in herself all that much. Having Hunter home cooking for her had been wonderful, and as she walked into the grocery store, she felt a pang of regret thinking about his wonderful lasagnas. 

Just as she chose a shopping cart, putting her tote bag in it, her phone started to vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. Bringing the phone to her ear without even checking the caller ID, Jemma swallowed around her mouthful of muffin. “Yes?” 

_ “Hey love. Missed me?” _

It was physically impossible for Jemma to hold back the grin that spread on her face at the voice of her best friend, instant balm on her gloomy mood. “Hunter!” 

_ “The one and only! You didn’t answer my question though, meaning you did miss me.” _

Jemma rolled her eyes, using her shoulder to hold the phone against her ear as she put the half eaten muffin back in the plastic wrap and into her tote bag. “I guess it could have been worse, but I did miss you cooking.” 

It wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Hunter let out a scoff that made her smile. 

“You did take your sweet time replying to me,” Jemma pointed out as she walked towards the dairy section of the supermarket. “I sent you a text days ago. You can’t tell me you and Bobbi have been so busy you couldn’t at least let me know you were alive.” 

_ “What can I say, love? You know how it is with Bob and I. We barely left the bed for two days and it’s the first time I’m actually looking at my phone!” _

There was ruffling on the other end of the phone, and Jemma heard Hunter let out a muffled yelp of pain. She had to bite back a grin when she realized what must have happened, and it completely made her forget the staged groan of disgust she was about to let out. 

“I guess I could chastise you for this, but I think Bobbi did it for me,” she said as she put a pack of milk in her cart, as well as a few yogurts. Her next stop was the breakfast alley, and she grabbed powdered hot chocolate and a few stash of English breakfast tea. All the while, she was able to hear muffled arguing on the other end of the phone, allowing her to switch the shoulder she was holding the phone with and rest her neck. 

_ “You’re traitors, the both of you _ ,” Hunter replied. “ _ And yes, I did leave the room to say this because she would kick my arse for even thinking of saying that.” _

Jemma snorted. Adding eggs to her cart, she waited until Hunter stopped shuffling around on the other end of the phone and found somewhere to settle down outside of his and Bobbi’s bedroom. “Is everything alright between you two?” she eventually inquired.

Hunter clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ” _ I guess so, yeah? I mean, we definitely didn’t talk much yet.”  _ Jemma rolled her eyes again, muttering under her breath. “ _ But we did some talking, all things considered. And I think… I think we’re good.” _

The soft tone of his voice left no place to any doubts, and Jemma felt herself grin. “I’m really happy for you, you know?” 

And she was. No matter how lame her love life was, she would always be happy for her best friend. Hunter truly deserved to be happy, and she knew how impossible that was without Bobbi in his life. 

_ “But enough about me, love. How was the gala? You didn’t tell me anything, it is because you were equally busy in the last few days?” _

Jemma didn’t need to face him to know that he was most certainly wiggling his eyebrows at his own joke. Yet she didn’t feel like laughing at him, or laughing at all. 

“Yeah, hmm. Not really.” The lump in her throat was back, and Jemma had to swallow with difficulty. Her throat felt dry, and she suddenly regretted the bits of muffin she’d eaten before Hunter had called. 

There was a tensed silence at the other end of the line. “ _ What do you mean, not really? Jemma, you didn’t chicken out, did you?” _

Anger flared inside her chest. “What is it with you immediately assuming I’m the one who fucked up?” she snarled into the receiver, grabbing her phone in her free hand again to be able to properly yell into it. “Am I that predictable, is that how you see me?” 

_ “Come on, love…” _

“Don’t ‘love’ me, Hunter. I understand perfectly well whose side you’re on, alright, you made that perfectly clear. Now I’m sorry if I tried to make him understand that it was my  _ job _ we’re talking about, and he didn’t even stop for a minute to listen to what I had to say.”

For a moment there, Jemma felt like a huge weight was getting off her chest. The more she talked, the more she felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, but she realized that it felt as good as it hurt to let it all out. As much as she blamed herself for what happened during the gala and how she’d handled things, she also logically knew Fitz’s complete dismissal wasn’t helping either of them, nor the situation. 

“And I’m tired, alright? I’ve just lost one of the only relationships I actually wanted before it even began. I’ve put my job on the line, I’ve tried to find someone that would be able to take on Fitz’s case, I’ve tried to do everything  _ right _ but I’m still the one to blame in the end because he won’t even answer his phone and let me explain myself.” 

Hunter stayed silent for a little while, long enough for Jemma to wonder if he’d hung up on her. Throwing a quick look at the screen, she realized the call was still running just as Hunter cleared his throat. 

_ “There’s obviously a lot you needed to get off your chest,”  _ he pointed out, and Jemma sunk on herself at the accusing tone. “ _ But I think you need to think about the situation, and about Fitz’s position in this story too. He might have fallen in love with his doctor, which is a hard situation, but he’s also probably feeling extremely vulnerable at the moment. On top of his brain injury, he’s got a lot to deal with with Stark and this new job he so desperately wants. I know it’s hard, I know you’ve got a lot to deal with yourself, but please don’t take it out on him in the end.”  _

The slight hesitation that followed Hunter’s declaration urged him to continue. 

_ “Now why the hell are you still wallowing in self pity for? The Jemma Simmons I know would be banging at his door until he opened it.” _

“That’s the thing, Hunter,” she whispered, quickly wiping a treacherous tear away. “He stayed in New York after the gala. There’s no way for me to just leave for New York like this. I can’t just take days off indefinitely, or go halfway around the world to speak to someone I’m not even sure even wants to see me.” 

The very idea of finding herself in New York all alone without anywhere to crash felt terrifying. The idea of Fitz closing the door to her face felt even more terrifying, and Jemma wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle one more rejection. Yet, she knew Hunter was right. If Fitz wasn’t answering her calls, there was no other way for her to handle the situation than to shake him up. 

_ “Jemma… You and I both know you can do whatever the hell you set your mind up to. You’re Jemma fucking Simmons, never ever forget this.” _

Jemma stopped in the middle of the alley, blinking a few times to process what he’d just told her. What  _ was _ she doing, exactly? Wallowing herself in self pity was never something she thought she’d ever do, yet there she was. Shame and annoyance flared through her at the thought, and she took a deep breath. 

“Hunter?” She said into the receiver. “I think I know exactly what I have to do.”

_ “Atta girl.” _

She smiled, feeling her heart swell with gratitude at her best friends’ words. She had no idea what she could have done of her life without him as her personal cheerleader, really. 

“Thank you. And Lance? Whatever happened with Bobbi… I hope it’s all better now. I’m happy for you. Really.“

* * *

Later that night, as Jemma ate her second muffin thoughtfully, she glanced around her silence living-room for a long moment. Her big house once more felt too cold and too quiet without Hunter, and with a blink, Jemma realized that her life had always been devoid of anything besides her job. Sure, she had Trip, and they had a lot of fun together both at work and outside. But besides that, Jemma couldn’t quite think about a time when she’d gone out with friends outside of him and the occasional colleagues she rarely saw outside of work. She usually went straight home after work, read scientific reviews or worked on her own research, before going to bed and doing it all over again the next day.

She thought about Daisy, and how close she was to her brother. She thought about New York, and the job she’d been offered by Stark himself. She thought about Hunter, back in America with his wife.

With a decisive nod to herself, Jemma took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do, and she also knew exactly where to begin. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The loud banging against the apartment door woke Fitz up in a start. He barely had time to look around in confusion before the person behind the door knocked again, this time with more intent. 
> 
> “Go away,” Fitz groaned as he flopped face down on the bed again, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. 
> 
> The sensation of the soft mattress under his body felt like heaven, something that he’d immediately loved about this new place. Not that he’d managed to sleep much in the last few days, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> here comes chapter 10! can you believe we're 3 more chapters away from the end of this story? (well... I _am_ writing an epilogue at the moment, which is still on going and is at 13k words so far, but as for the rest of the story... only 3 chapters left!). I really hope you will like this chapter, and I promise, the angst IS coming to an end! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all your reactions on this fic. It truly means the world to me to know that you like it so far!!
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything. There are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts. There are light references to homophobia in this chapter as well, so take care of yourself if this is a triggering subject for you.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought about this chapter! I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments :) xx

The loud banging against the apartment door woke Fitz up in a start. He barely had time to look around in confusion before the person behind the door knocked again, this time with more intent. 

“Go away,” Fitz groaned as he flopped face down on the bed again, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. 

The sensation of the soft mattress under his body felt like heaven, something that he’d immediately loved about this new place. Not that he’d managed to sleep much in the last few days, anyway. After Tony had offered him a place to stay during the gala, he’d pushed the information back to the confines of his mind. Little did he know that he’d need it so very soon. But to be fair, the decision not to go back to Glasgow after the gala had been sudden, and dare he say, a little irresponsible. 

But his heart ached, and he needed to get away from the problem —meaning Jemma and her rejection— as soon as he could. It was a little crazy to think about how much good they’d done to each other for months, and how the tables had turned just as suddenly. He hadn’t really thought about how he had nothing but his phone and wallet on him before he told Tony that he would be staying, and officially working with him as soon as he needed him to. Tony had been delighted, but Fitz hadn’t missed the frown on Pepper’s face at the revelation. When she’d heard about Jemma leaving the gala early and heading straight to the plane, a painful look of understanding had crossed her features, and she had made sure Fitz knew she was there if he ever needed anything. Fitz had realized with a start that Pepper probably meant this in more ways than one, and his heart had clutched with gratitude in his chest. 

Before he could dwell on the disastrous gala night even further, Fitz heard the sound of the lock turning and the apartment door opening and closing. “Lesson number one,” Pepper said as she appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, judging by the proximity of her voice, “I have a key that allows me access to any room in the Stark Tower.”

Fitz let out a grown, flopping down on his back with no grace. Squinting at Pepper, he realized that she was indeed standing at the entrance of his bedroom, arms crossed against her chest. She wore a perfectly fitted blazer as always, and Fitz had the presence of mind not to stare at her for too long. Sometimes though, he needed a moment to realize just how crazy his life had become. 

“Lesson number two, I know a thing or two about sulking after a break up. And this is definitely not a solution.”

Fitz snorted. “For a breakup to happen, there needs to be a r-relationship in the first place.”

Pepper ignored him, walking into the room to throw a phone at him. It landed on his stomach with a funny noise, and Fitz felt his cheeks heat up when he realized that he was only wearing his boxers in front of his future boss. “Don’t worry about that,” Pepper said with a smirk as he grabbed the phone with a confused frown, “I’ve seen much worse with Tony.”

“What’s— what’s this?” 

Fitz used the bed covers to hide most of his body from her view anyway, before waving the brand new StarkPhone at her face. 

“That’s your new phone,” Pepper replied. “it’s the latest one, not commercialized yet. Tony made sure to include all the numbers you had in the old one, and entered a few new ones you might have to use as well.” 

Fitz kept staring at the mobile. “I can’t pay for this.”

The latest StarkPhone had the capacity to replace a computer in every single aspect, and the prices had drastically increased in the process. Having one was one of Fitz’s dreams for years now, but he also knew there was no way for him to ever afford it. 

“It’s a welcome gift,” Pepper said with a smile. “You don’t have to pay for it.”

“A welcome— but it’s a 1,000 dollars phone!” 

“And you’re now working for a million dollars company.” Pepper threw him a look, “I’ll let you get dressed, alright? I’ll be in the living-room. We have a lot to talk about.” 

All the while processing the new information, Fitz walked to the bathroom as soon as Pepper closed the door behind her. All things considered, he hadn’t been that surprised to find out that she had made sure he had a collection of clothes from the first day he’d stayed in the Stark Tower, and he grabbed a jeans and shirt combo hastily. Washing his face and brushing his teeth was a quick affair, and after taking care of his bladder and making sure his curls weren’t too wild —they were, but he chose to ignore it— Fitz joined Pepper in the living-room. 

The news was on when he walked in, and Fitz watched with curiosity as the camera showed Captain Steve Rogers, looking happier and more rested than he remembered from the tabloïds he’d seen in Glasgow a few weeks before.

“Do you know Steve?” Pepper asked as he sat next to her, mentioning the tv with her chin as she browsed through the files disposed on her lap.

“Well, know is a strong world. I know his story, like everybody else in the world.” 

Captain Steve Rogers was a soldier who had fought during the second world war. He’d plunged a plane into the ice with his partner and best friend Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes in 1945 to save New York from German bombs on board the plane, and the both of them had been found a few years ago during an expedition in the Arctic Ocean. News of their survival had made the headlines for months, and it had been hard for the both of them to get away from the public eye long enough to get used to the 70 years they’d just lost. 

“Bucky Barnes was one of Stark’s Industries first patients, actually,” Pepper confessed, never taking his eyes away from the TV. “Tony calls them test subjects, but I always argue that they’re not mice.” 

The revelation tore a gasp out of Fitz’s throat. “Really? Bucky Barnes, as in…  _ Bucky Barnes _ ?” 

Pepper nodded. “Yes. Tony was the one to help them lay low for a while, back when they magically disappeared from the public eye for two whole months. He gave them a plane, and the keys to one of his safe houses in Canada.” 

Fitz could feel his jaw drop with each revelation. Steve and Bucky’s disappearance had been the front page of every newspaper he knew for weeks, and it felt extremely intimate to be able to connect the dots. 

“Tony offered Bucky a new arm, after his was completely burned by the ice and had to be severed from his body.” Pepper kept going, “It was one of the first high functioning prosthetics he did, and it worked perfectly. Now he’s working on making him a new one I believe.” 

“That’s…. that’s amazing.” 

Pepper smiled. “Yeah, it is. Steve and Bucky are lovely. Tony likes to groan about them being old fashioned, but he secretly adores them.” 

They both turned their attention back to the news, on which Steve Rogers avoided yet another question as he walked to his car. 

_ “What can you tell us about the rumors that surfaced about you and Sergeant Barnes dating?”  _ the reported pressed, ignoring Steve’s cold shoulder as he reached his car.  _ “What do you think children will think?”  _

This question made Steve pause, and Fitz could see the precise moment he gave in. The clench of his jaw was visible even through the low quality newsfeed, and Steve eventually turned around to face the reporter. Even through his black sunglasses, Fitz could see the glare he threw her as he worked on his response. 

_ “I think the children won’t have a problem with any of it,”  _ he replied coldly,  _ “because when I went into the ice in 1945, I thought I was saving a world that would eventually turn into one of tolerance and acceptance. “Never again”, was what everyone said, wasn’t it? Never again would such people let such hate persist, and find themselves in situations like we’d lived back then. To wake up and realize that nothing had truly changed was something that deeply wounded me. So if you want your children to make a difference, you will teach them that love is love, and that there is nothing wrong with loving someone of the same gender.”  _

_ “Is this a confession, Captain?”  _ yelled another reporter, out of the camera shot. “ _ Are you coming out?” _

Steve sighed, taking off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Fitz could see Pepper tensing on the couch from the corner of his eyes, and he wondered if she knew exactly the words he was going to utter out.  _ “You know what I regret about all of this?” _ Steve asked, _ “It’s the way things are handled nowadays. I come from a time when such things were ushered behind closed doors, and never spoken about in the light of days. Now, I’m followed to my car because the world demands to know what is happening in the confines of my bedroom.”  _ Rubbing at the arch of his eyebrows, Steve turned his attention to the camera once more.  _ “So if you want a confession, I will give you a confession. Sergeant James Barnes and I have been together since we were 17, and I don’t see how it’s anyone else’s business. Although I’m certain you will not take this demand into account, I will ask you to respect our privacy at this time.”  _

With this, he spun around and disappeared into his car, ignoring the shouts and cameras thrown at his face. As the car drove away from the journalists, Fitz turned his head to look at Pepper. 

“Well at least this is done,” she said as she turned off the TV. 

Fitz nodded. “Did you know a-about this?” 

“I did. And so did Tony, actually. But it was neither of our places to talk about it.” 

“I see.” 

Fitz thought about his own experience in high school, and how he’d never told anyone about his crush on Paul Mayer back in Primary +6. It felt silly, now that he thought about it. Especially since he’d realized years afterwards that he looked at men just as much as he looked at women, but it never seemed like something that was worth confessing to anyone. His heart ached however for Steve and Bucky, who’d just been thrown to the wolves for the simple fact that they loved each other. 

“How are you doing, Fitz?” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked in the last few days, but it was the first time Fitz took the time to really think about it. How was he really feeling? His heart still ached when he thought about Jemma, his mum or even his sister. He knew his decision not to come back to Glasgow must have affected his mum greatly, and he yet had to pick up his phone and call her. She’d been comprehensive, bless her and her vast knowledge of her son, but he knew she deserved at least an explanation for his behavior. He didn’t even wanna think about Daisy and how much it must have hurt her as well. 

“I feel guilty,” he eventually said. “It’s been days and I still feel like…”

“Like you’ve made a mistake?” 

Fitz grimaced. “Not exactly a mistake, no. But m-maybe… maybe I made a harsh decision, and I didn’t think about how it could affect the people around me.” 

Pepper hummed her assent. “Your mother?” 

“And my sister, yes.” 

“I think I can help you with that last point, actually,” Pepper said as she checked her watch, before looking up at him. “But first, you need to be honest with me. How do you feel about what happened at the gala?” 

Fitz’s first reaction was to close off, but he forced himself to relax his shoulders and adopt a less threatening stance. “I’m angry,” he said, looking down at his hands. Almost ironically, he didn’t remember his hand shaking badly in the last few days he’d been in New York. “I feel mad, because I didn’t get a say on something that was as much a decision for me as it was for Jemma.” 

“How come?" Pepper asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“She didn’t get to decide for me. She didn’t get to take this decision for the both of us, when I was just as involved in the relationship as she was.”

“No, she didn’t,” Pepper nodded. “But you have to take into account that she had much more to lose than you did. I’ve been in this position before, and I know it better than anyone.” 

Fitz gritted his teeth, biting back a reply. Pepper was logically right, but that his heart had its reasons. 

“In the meantime,” Pepper kept going as she got up, “Tony’s waiting for you in the lab. I think he’s looking for a fresh eye, and you’re just what he needs.” 

Fitz blinked. “What, right now?” 

The sideway glance Pepper threw him was a clear enough answer for him to jump to his feet in panic. 

* * *

Finding himself in Tony Stark’s workshop was definitely something Fitz hadn’t seen coming in a million years, and couldn’t have even imagined in his wildest dreams. It was bigger than Fitz had pictured, but then again he shouldn’t have been surprised with anything concerning Tony Stark. It turned out that the man had more than one secret the world didn’t know about, and the more Fitz learned about him the more he realized how much good Stark Industries could make for the world. Working for such a company was a dream come true, and Fitz discretely pinched the back of his hand to make sure he wasn’t dreaming any of it.

“Ah, if this isn’t my new project manager!” 

Fitz jumped at the sound of Tony’s voice. He hadn’t seen the other man, currently half lying under a desk on the opposite corner of the room. “I’ve never actually m-managed a team,” he replied, feeling his face redden under the praise. 

Tony let out a laugh. “You and me both. But you’ll do just fine, I know it.” 

Rolling away from under the desk, Tony jumped to his feet and hit a few keys of the keyboard Fitz just now realized was there. 

“There!” He said triumphantly, facing Fitz with a smile on his face. He gestured at something behind him, but no matter how hard he squinted, Fitz couldn’t quite make out what he wanted to show him.

Fitz blinked. “What am I supposed t-to look at?” 

“What do you mean what— oh.” With a frown, he clicked on one last key. Immediately, an hologram of the latest prosthetic he’d been working on appeared in front of their very eyes, and Fitz couldn’t hold back the gasp he let out. 

“Is this… have you w-worked with—“

“Vibranium, yeah. I finally managed to work my way around it.” His eyes sparkled with excitement as turned the hologram around, showing the last few calculations he’d gotten as he worked on the gait pattern. “I followed your advice not to overload the nervous system, and I think I came up with something.” 

“Is that a leg?” Fitz asked as he walked around the hologram, fascinated. “Have you found a test subject yet?” 

A look he couldn’t quite decipher passed on Tony’s face. “Yeah, about that…” 

“ **FITZ** !” 

The young engineer barely had time to turn around before something —or rather someone— crashed into his arms. Letting out a small  _ ‘oof’ _ at the violent contact, Fitz didn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around the familiar warmth in his arms. “Daisy?” He whispered against her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. 

When she eventually pulled back to be able to look at him fully, Fitz felt his eyes well up with water against his will. He hadn’t realized just how much he would miss his sister in the few days he’d been gone. After finding her again, it had felt weird to go by an entire day without her buzzing constantly around the house or texting him absurdities that made him roll his eyes. But the moment she pulled back, Daisy punched him straight in the chest with a firm fist. 

“Ouch!” He cried, scandalized, rubbing at the spot. “What was t-that for?” 

“For being a drama queen and having left without saying goodbye. Don’t you ever do that again, or I won’t hesitate to punch you harder, and straight in the face.” 

Fitz wanted to argue, or even tease her for her wet eyes as she looked up at him, but he couldn’t quite find the strength to. He felt too ashamed for that, and he didn’t resist the urge to hug her tight again.

“Alright,” Tony clapped his hands behind them, “as heartwarming as this entire evening is, we’ve got work to do.” 

When Daisy pulled back, Fitz finally realized that they weren’t alone in the room. It had been a while since he’d last seen Daniel —he knew that he’d started spacing out his sessions with Jemma, and since he and Daisy had started dating he tended to see even less of him— but the man looked like he was glowing as he smiled at them both. 

“Daniel!” He said, surprised. The other man’s handshake was strong, and his smile was almost blinding. Happiness looked good on him, and Fitz was happy to realize his sister’s love life didn’t look as catastrophic as his. “It’s good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you too, Fitz,” Daniel replied, sparing a glance at Daisy. “She was worried about you.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “I was gone for four days. One thing you need t-to know about this family is that it's got a flare for the dramatics.” 

Behind him, Daisy huffed in annoyance. She was quickly distracted however as Stark pushed a tablet in her hands. Fitz didn’t need to turn around to know that Tony had just given her one of the latest Stark Industries tablets, and if Daisy’s sharp inhale of breath was of any indication, it was as cool as his new smartphone. 

“I need you to show me how you bypassed my security,” Tony told Daisy with a challenging raised eyebrow. Fitz already recognized this look. “And then, I need you to make sure no one can bypass it again. Which is of course a permanent job, if you’ll accept.”

When Fitz turned around and looked at his sister, he wondered if he’d made the same stupid face the moment Tony had offered  _ him _ a job. 

* * *

“You know, I saw Jemma right before leaving Glasgow.”

Fitz swallowed with difficulties around his mouthful of spaghettis. After spending the day in Stark’s workshop working on a leg prosthetic for the first test subject, who happened to be Daniel Sousa himself, they’d decided to have a quiet night in. Pepper had stolen Daniel to sign a handful of forms, and the two siblings had decided to get dinner together and catch up a little bit. Fitz should have known the conversation would eventually and inevitably go back to the subject he was trying as hard as he could to avoid, though.

“Daisy—”

“She looked sad,” Daisy kept going, ignoring his warning tone. “said she tried to call you multiple times, and you didn’t answer.” 

Fitz gritted his teeth, staying silent. 

“Which isn’t that surprising, because I’ve always known you to be a pig headed person, even more so when you were hurt.” 

Fitz’s mouth fell open in outrage. “I’m not p-pig headed!” 

The look Daisy gave him in response made him sigh internally. “Sure you’re not,” she said with a tilt of her head. “So how come you never answered any of her calls? You were oh so busy sulking in your bed, weren't you?” 

“How do you—”

“Pepper told me everything. You didn’t think I wasn’t aware, did you?” Daisy sighed, putting her fork down to wipe her mouth with her napkin carefully. “I don’t know what happened exactly, and I don’t mean to pry. But Fitz… you know there’s no resolving this without a proper discussion, right?” 

Fitz looked down at her plate. “I k-know. I just feel like such a fool.” 

Reaching out to grab his hand on the table, Daisy squeezed her brother’s fingers gently. 

“Fitz… you’re a lot of things, but a fool is not one of them. I know things have been hard in the last few months, but I also know how much Jemma helped you through it all. I wouldn’t talk to you about this if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure Jemma meant well.” 

Fitz squinted at her playfully. “Whose side are you on again?” 

“I’m on your side, dummy. I just want you to be happy, and I know you won’t be until you’ve sorted this situation entirely. And to do that, you have to face Jemma, no matter how hard it might be. But hey, you’ve done harder things in your life. And look at you, and your life now!” she mentioned at the flat around them with her free hand eyes shining with glee. “You’ve made it, Fitz. You’ve made a life for yourself when you thought everything was lost for you.” 

“It was a lot of luck, though,” Fitz mumbled as he cast his eyes down once more. His half eaten plate seemed to laugh at him, as he’d never before turned down food for any reason. 

“Don’t be stupid. It’s not luck, it’s talent, and you’re full of it. I’ve always known you were made for more than Hammer Industries, and I’m glad someone other than me finally realized it, too.” She squeezed his hand a little harder, bringing his attention back to her. “You know, Stark speaks very highly of you, according to Daniel.” 

Fitz snorted. “Tony’s like an overgrown child with a n-new toy, that is. He’ll grow tired of me soon enough.” He truly hoped he wouldn’t, though. He’d been an official Stark Industries employee for less than a week, but he’d never felt such at ease at work before in his life. 

“Stop it,” Daisy groaned, throwing her napkin at his face. Fitz groaned in disgust, making sure no tomato sauce had fallen on his light blue shirt. “You know it’s not just that. He actually said your ideas were brilliant, and multiple times.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Anyway,” she said with a pointed look, “what I meant is, things are starting to look up for you here. You’ve got a job, you barely even stutter or look for words anymore, don’t you think taking a leap of faith could be good? And by leap of faith, I mean...”

Fitz gritted his teeth so hard he could feel the strain in his neck. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“And…?” Daisy kept staring, unaffected by his display of annoyance. 

In a way, it reminded him of all those times they’d fought when they were kids. Daisy always liked to stare directly at him, waiting for him to look down or away first. Fitz could remember nights when they’d stood there glaring at each other like children for such a long time that their mum had to break their staring contests, the both of them too pig headed to let go. Fitz might be a Leo, but Daisy was a tough contender.

“Alright, alright!” Throwing his hands in the air, Fitz pushed back his chair, the wood making an awfully loud sound on the parquet flooring as it dragged for several inches. “I’ll call her, alright?” 

Grabbing his brand new phone from the back pocket of his jeans, he waved it in front of Daisy’s eyes. His sister was looking at him with something akin to amusement on her face, nodding at the half eaten plate in front of him. “Are you going to finish that?” 

Fitz grimaced. “Help yourself. I’ve got a call to make a-anyway.” 

As he punched Jemma’s number into the phone, Fitz used the excuse to walk straight back to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. The numbers on the screen seemed to judge him as his thumb hovered above the little green button, and the young man cursed his excellent memory for recalling the numbers so well even after deleting them from his contact list. It felt like forever until he managed to push his shaky thumb against the button, bringing the phone to his ear immediately. 

With each ringtone, Ftiz’s heart seemed to squeeze even tighter in his chest. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to recite the alphabet backwards to keep his mind off the rising anxiety he could feel paralyizing his muscles. 

_ Sorry, the person you have called can’t answer at the minute. Please leave a message after the tone.  _

* * *

“You’re here awfully early.”

Fitz barely acknowledged Tony as he walked inside the lab, not taking his eyes off the holographic arm in front of his eyes. Adding a few touches to what he was currently obsessing on, Fitz hummed. 

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” 

Tony stayed silent for a little while, probably asserting the situation. The labs were still empty at this time of the day, as it was barely past 5 in the morning. Fitz had wanted some peace and quiet, and after making sure through Jarvis that he had access to the workshop whenever he wanted, he’d gone down there to empty his brain a little bit. 

Tony hummed thoughtfully in response. “Been there, done that.” Walking towards the kitchenette, he pulled out a grumpy cat mug from the cupboards on his left, as well as a Stark Industries one. Filling both with steaming hot coffee, he walked back towards Fitz and handed him the grumpy cat one with a smirk. “Wanna tell me where your brain’s at?” 

“Not especially, n-no.” 

Tony nodded. "Fair enough. What are you working on?” he waved his mug in front of the holographic limb, “I thought we were still working on Sousa’s leg. I’m not very good at biology, but that’s an arm.” 

“Oh, I’ve finished working on Sousa’s leg. I’ve decided to take a look at Bucky Barnes’ new arm, I know you’ve been meaning to talk to me about it, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

Tony’s eyebrows went up to his hairline as he stared at the back of Fitz’s head. “You’ve finished with Sousa’s leg? How long have you been there exactly?” 

The question made Fitz pause. The frown that distorted his features was enough of a response for Tony, who looked up at the ceiling. “Jarvis, buddy? Care to tell me for how long Fitz has been there by himself?”

“It’s been two hours and twenty-three minutes, Sir.” 

From where he stood, Fitz shrugged. Tony only quirked an eyebrow again, taking a sip out of his cup of coffee. “And they say I’m the insomniac one. I have a feeling Pepper will have a blast kicking both of our asses in the morning.”

The remark made Fitz’s hands stop what they were doing for the first time since Tony had walked in. As he turned around slowly, the younger man couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side curiously. “Shouldn’t you be in bed with her anyway?” 

Tony smirked. “Kinky. Do you wanna know all about mommy and daddy’s extra curricular activities?” 

“I’m gonna ignore that,” Fitz said as he rolled his eyes, not even blushing this time. Less than a week in New York, and he already felt immuned to Tony’s bad jokes. “Because that’s definitely not what I meant.” 

“I can’t believe you’re already disrespecting me. I have no respect from any of my employees, I wonder why.” 

Fitz sighed in fake annoyance. Looking down to the desk in front of him, he seemed to realize he had a fuming cup of coffee ready for him. As he raised it to his mouth to take a sip, he couldn’t help but look back at Tony with a pensive expression. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he eventually asked back after he’d swallowed the warm liquid, grimacing a little at the taste. He wasn’t used to caffeine anymore, after being back in Scotland for so long. If there was one thing in the world he hadn’t missed, it’d been American coffee. 

Tony seemed to snap back out of his daydream, eyes focusing on him as he blinked his thoughts away. “Not necessarily.” 

With a nod, Fitz put down his mug. His eyelids felt sore from staring at the hologram for the better part of the two previous hours, and he didn’t need a medical degree to know that he’d be nursing a headache in no time if he didn’t allow himself a break. He hadn’t been able to go to sleep after trying to call Jemma, and the thought that he’d taken too long to call her back had haunted his thoughts ever since. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Fitz asked eventually, realizing he’d talked out loud the moment the words slipped past his lips. 

The question seemed to surprise Tony. “What?” 

“Do you believe t-that there is someone out there that’s meant to be with you, no matter what happens?” 

As opposed to what Fitz could have thought in the first place, Tony didn’t immediately reply. The young engineer would have thought that he’d snort, or even laugh at the question, yet Tony did none of it as his gaze fell on the coffee mug he was holding.

“I’d be tempted to say yes,” he said eventually, still staring at the warm brown liquid as if it could be able to give him all the answers in the world. “But I’m a man of science, I can’t just think about such a theory without asking further questions.” 

“But you’ve thought about it before.” 

“Didn’t we all?” 

Fitz thought about all those times he’d wondered as a kid as he stared at the crack in the ceiling of his bedroom if someone would ever love him as much as the people in the books he loved to read loved each other. He’d often wondered as he lured himself to sleep with stories and impossible scenarios if anyone would ever see him and wonder if he was meant for them. 

“Love is complicated,” Tony kept going, unaware of his inner struggle. “Anyone telling you any different is an idiot. Love, sex, relationships… it isn’t innate, it’s not something you just know out of the blue. Knowledge comes with experience, and most of all with failures.” 

“I wish it were,” Fitz mumbled. “innate, and easy. I wish it didn’t hurt that much.” 

“Yeah, well. It is how it is. but one day, You’re gonna be grateful for all of those feelings, trust me. As a grand philosopher used to say, you just have to wait for it.” 

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “Are you quoting Hamilton to me?” 

Tony huffed a laugh, taking yet another sip of his coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Pepper never made me watch the entire thing more times than I can count.” When he put down his cup on the desk he was seated on, Fitz could immediately sense the shift of atmosphere. “So, about that arm you were working on? Show me everything.” 

For the next couple of hours, Fitz and Tony lost themselves in their prosthetics and mathematics, occasionally helped by Jarvis — and strong, steamy cups of coffee. By the time 7:30 in the morning rolled around, they were so deep into their conversation that neither of them noticed the door of the lab opening and closing in a familiar hiss. 

“Mister Stark? Doctor Fitz?” 

Fitz jerked around, surprised. 

“Yeah?” Tony asked from where he was half bent over his desk, scribbling some calculations. Fitz had no idea why he even bothered calculent on a piece of paper when Jarvis was around, but he had a strange feeling that there was a question of ego involved. He didn’t push, though. Some things were best unanswered, especially after a sleepless night.

“Someone is here to see Doctor Fitz,” the woman —Maria Hill, Pepper Pott’s right hand, Fitz remembered now— said. Her hair was gathered in a bun that shouldn’t have looked that perfect at 7 in the morning, and Fitz allowed himself a small moment to fear her. “It’s quite urgent, Sir, and Miss Potts asked me to send Doctor Fitz right back to his apartment.” 

Sparing a glance at Tony, Fitz shrugged a little awkwardly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I’ll do my best to do this quickly.” 

Looking between Maria and Fitz with a light frown Fitz didn’t quite understand, Tony waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. I think we just got more work done in two and a half hours than I’ve worked in a whole day by myself last week. If Pepper says this is important, you better go. Don’t make the lady wait, I’ve learned this the hard way.”

His tone was light, but Fitz strangely detected a little amusement behind it. Pushing his suspicions to the side, he gave both Tony and Maria a thankful nod, disappearing into the elevator leading him to the apartments floor. There were five apartments on each floor, something that had blown his mind the first time he’d visited. True to Tony’s words though, the flats were spacious but not overly huge, and even though he’d only been there for a little less than a week, Fitz was beginning to feel right at home in the city that never slept. The ache in his heart was still there, but as long as he kept his mind busy, he could ignore it for a little while. 

With a familiar sound, the elevator opened on the 25th floor, and Fitz didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings as he punched the code into the keypad next to the door. He hadn’t thought about taking his physical key this morning as he’d gotten down to the lab, but thankfully Tony had allowed him to install a digital keypad for emergencies. Daisy had made sure it was safe the very night before, too. Fitz knew he needed to have a little talk with her about how protective she could be, but he also figured he owed her a few days’ rest after his New York tantrum. 

When the door opened, Fitz stepped inside, curious to see what could have been important enough to make him leave the lab. The moment he laid eyes on the person sitting on his dark grey couch though, his heart skipped a beat. 

“Hello Fitz,” Jemma whispered. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The atmosphere in the room had switched the moment they’d frozen, looking at each other in silence, and both Jemma and Fitz could feel it. The tension between them was so thick it could have been sliced with a knife, and Fitz took a deep, calming breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONEEE!!! here comes chapter 11! 
> 
> As I have stated on twitter before, **this chapter changes the fic's rating** , and I want to make sure you all are very aware of that. This chapter is basically 6k words of smut, and I understand if it's not everyone's cup of tea. 
> 
> To allow you to still understand and follow the story without having to read the smut, I will outline the explicit parts from now on —because there will be some in chapter 12 and 13 as well— with *******.   
> I've began this system for this chapter, so that you can read the very beginning up until the bold ***, and then wait until next week's chapter (because the rest of this week's chapter is basically just smut, sorry about that). 
> 
> No matter what, I hope you will enjoy this chapter nonetheless, whether you read the first tiny bit or the entirety. Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos, always. You're too kind to me! 
> 
> Some possible **trigger warnings** may apply to this story. I will try to tag them as much as I can, but please let me know if you feel like I forget about anything.   
> For now there are mentions to **brain injuries, aphasia caused by hypoxia, as well as mild references to depressive thoughts. I will add graphic sex scenes for this chapter.**
> 
> Please don't hesitate to tell me what you think about this story, as I always look forward to hearing from you in the comments!! :) xx

The atmosphere in the room had switched the moment they’d frozen, looking at each other in silence, and both Jemma and Fitz could feel it. The tension between them was so thick it could have been sliced with a knife, and Fitz took a deep, calming breath.

“What… what are you d-doing here?” he asked, forcing his shoulders to relax and his jaw to unclench. The last thing he needed was for the headache that had been lurking a few hours ago to come back full force. 

Jemma immediately got up. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call, but I was still at the airport back then my battery died and I couldn’t call Pepper to let her know that I’d arrived—“

“Jemma.” 

His tone was short but not unkind, and Jemma stopped short. Taking a deep breath, she let her eyes bore into his. “I tried calling you since I left New York,” she whispered, “but you never answered.”

Fitz felt his stomach plummet. He knew his behavior had left to be desired, but he’d needed time for himself. As he looked at Jemma in her brown coat now, her wavy hair falling down her shoulders graciously and framing her beautiful face, Fitz sort of forgot why he’d been mad at the first place. The ache in his heart was hard to ignore, though. 

“I know, I’m sorry Jemma. I needed.. I guess I n-needed some time to heal my wounds.” 

Jemma shook her head. “Fitz, I’m so sorry. Those things I said back at the gala… You do know I want to be with you, right?”

“But your job is making it impossible, I know.” Fitz fought not to turn his heels around and flee, probably harder than he’d ever fought in his life. The idea of sharing all of the reasons why they couldn’t be together once more made his stomach lurch, and he idly wondered why Jemma had flown all the way from Glasgow to break his heart all over again. 

“Screw the job, Fitz.”

It took him a few seconds to realize what Jemma had just said, but when he did, Fitz’s eyes opened in shock. “What?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, before you left the balcony.” Jemma explained as she took a shy step towards him. “I’ve found a way, I— I’ve asked one of my colleagues if she could take over your therapy, before flying to New York. I wanted to make sure it was all worth it, of course, but Hunter convinced me to. And of course it was, and I never should have doubted it for an instant because all I ever wanted was to be with you, Fitz. And it never really felt right to do it without your acknowledgement, but I figured…”

“You figured I would be okay with it,” he finished for her. His eyes were still open wide in shock, but the rest of his body felt numb. 

Jemma’s face twisted in an expression of anguish once more. “Have I screwed this up again?” She took a step back, curling her arms around herself. 

It was only then that Fitz noticed how different the Jemma standing right in front of him looked from the one he was used to seeing back in Glasgow. The dark circles under her eyes proved that the situation had not only been hard on him, and when she looked as gorgeous as always to him, he also realized how vulnerable she appeared. 

“Jemma,” he whispered again, this time gentler. “You didn’t screw anything up.” 

When she looked up at him from under her long lashes, he couldn’t help but let a tentative smile curl his lips. Waving his hands in the vague direction of the kitchen, he went for the only option he knew could relax the both of them. “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

Jemma immediately shook her head. “I… No, thank you, I just had one in the car. Pepper was not kidding about Happy being the best driver in Stark Industries, he knew exactly how I liked my Earl Grey.” 

Fitz couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “Happy is pretty amazing, yeah.”

The moment their eyes met again though, uncertainty filled the both of them again.

“Do you think…” Jemma started, uncertain. “Do you think you can forgive me?”

As he looked at her and her honey brown eyes, shining with unshed tears, Fitz ached to hold her tight against his chest. Instead, he only used the opportunity to take a step closer to her, judging the way she reacted. 

“There’s nothing to forgive, Jemma.”

The words had barely left Fitz’s mouth before she crossed the small space between them and hugged him tight, face pushing against the swell of his neck almost desperately. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, the edge of her jaw firm against Fitz’s shoulders. As he hugged her back just as tight, Fitz wondered how he’d ever lived through 27 —almost 28, now— years of his life without her warmth in his arms. 

“I’ve missed you so much, too.” 

The confession made Jemma pull back just enough for their eyes to meet, and their breaths to mingle. 

“Are you sure—“

“Yes, Jemma,” Fitz whispered almost urgently. The hold on her waist tightened, and he didn’t miss the way she gasped at the feeling. “I know we have a lot to talk about, still. But for now… for now let’s just enjoy each other, yeah?”

Fitz had no idea how long they stayed like this, simply holding on to each other and kissing from time to time, unaware of anything besides the person in their arms. Soon enough though, Fitz felt the lack of sleep kick in, and he stifled a yawn against her shoulder. 

“Maybe we should catch up on some sleep,” Jemma admitted, smiling up at him before kissing the tip of his nose. The gesture made Fitz’s heart sing. “I should head back to the spare flat Pepper gave me access to.”

Fitz’s arms immediately tightened around her, as if he was afraid to see her disappear suddenly. "Nonsense. I’ve got a spare bedroom, right down the hall.”

The slight hesitancy in his voice was enough for Jemma to kiss him once more, with intent this time.

“What about your bedroom?” she asked, biting her lower lip. Fitz’s eyes immediately followed the gesture, and he blinked. “I could use someone to hold onto as I fall asleep.” 

As he wordlessly led Jemma through his apartment, leading her to the bedroom, his eyes fell on the unmade bed against the furthest wall and Jemma’s fingers tightened on the inside of his wrist. 

“Take me to bed?” She whispered, turning her head slightly to the side. 

*******

Fitz caught her eyes, and his breath stuck in his throat. There was no doubt about the intent behind her words, and suddenly all exhaustion was gone, replaced by molten lava cursing through his veins as he looked at the woman of his dreams guide him towards the mattress. The bottom of his stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies, and the moment Jemma’s mouth touched his, he let out an audible gasp. Against his lips, Jemma chuckled. The way his entire body felt whenever they kissed was something Fitz wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to, but he surely wasn’t about to complain. Jemma’s lips tasted like happiness, his entire body floating above cloud nine whenever their tongues touched. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyes boring into hers. “Maybe we can—“

“I’m sure. Please, Fitz. I just need you.”

When they kissed again, it was harder and longer this time. The both of them felt dizzy with lust as they parted, getting some air back in their burning lungs. 

“Thank god I took a shower on Stark’s fancy jet,” Jemma remarked, almost to herself. Fitz couldn’t help but laugh, kissing her again until they were both dizzy with it, their bodies burning with a passion they’d rarely felt before. 

“Jemma” Fitz whispered when her cold fingers slid from the back of his head to his neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Your hands are freezing.” 

Her laugh was crystalline, and his heart soared. 

“Do you think you can brave it?” she asked eventually, the tip of her fingers sliding through the open space between two buttons of his shirt. 

The shiver that ran through his body made him gasp. “I’ll do my best to power through.” 

He was barely done with his sentence before Jemma jumped on him again, fingers digging in his shirt. Fitz barely had time to open his mouth against the onslaught of her tongue, and his calves met the end of his bed when Jemma walked him backwards, a little further into the bedroom. Without a single ounce of hesitation, Fitz sat down, breaking the kiss and looking up at Jemma though heavy lids. 

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered, fingers digging in her clothes covered hips. She was wearing a simple jeans and blouse combo, but she didn’t need anything else to be the most perfect thing Fitz had seen in his life. 

Jemma smiled, her cheeks turning slightly pink under his reverent gaze. Her fingers trailed from the back of his neck to his jaw, thumbs digging into the soft hair she found there. Fitz closed his eyes under the caress, leaning in her touch like a cat. They stayed like this for a few moments, before Fitz finally moved his fingers from her hips to her arms, finding his way up. His gaze was heated but inquisitive, and Jemma immediately nodded her assent when he found the curves of her breasts, thumbs barely grazing the underside of her bra. With a sigh and a small nod, she encouraged him to touch her further. Against everything she could have imagined, Fitz didn’t frame her breasts immediately. Instead, his hands came down to find the edge of her blouse and push it up, encouraging her to take it off entirely. 

“Jemma” he whispered in awe once her creamy skin was revealed, the blouse falling on the floor next to her feet in silence. Her bra was black, contrasting with white blouse, all lacy and soft to the touch. Fitz immediately found his way up to her perfect breasts, gaping when he realized that the tip of her nipples pushed through the fabric.

“Fitz, touch me” Jemma begged, her hands never leaving his hair. 

And who was he to refuse her? Pushing his face against the soft but firm expanse of her belly, his lips came in contact with her skin for the very first time. They both exhaled a shaky breath at the sensation, and Fitz wasted no time in trailing his way up between the valley of her covered breasts, until he couldn’t reach her skin without getting up. Jemma’s skin glowed with the small beads of saliva he’d left behind with his open mouthed kisses, and he pulled back just enough to admire his handiwork. He was surprised to feel Jemma’s hands leave his curls, but Fitz let out a small gasp when she reached out behind her and opened her bra, shaking it off quickly. 

“Jemma” he breathed, his bad hand suddenly shaking. 

Her breasts were perfect. Round, generous but firm, they stood in front of his face covered in freckles and Fitz felt like he could faint for a moment. He’d always been fascinated by breasts, but Jemma’s expected anything he’d ever imagined. Her nipples were the perfect shade of pink, matching her lips, and Fitz felt a little lightheaded when he realized the right one had a small metal bar going right through the nub, keeping it erected. 

“Oh” he breathed out, and Jemma’s laugh was almost shy when she realized what he was staring at. 

“Hunter dragged me to the piercing shop one day, back when we still lived in Sheffield,” she confessed in a whisper, “there are a lot of crazy things I’ve done in my youth. This is one of those things.” 

Fitz kept staring. “You’ll have to t-tell me all about it.”

“Perhaps one day.”

The metal bar was dotted with two small balls at both ends, shiny and incredibly catchy to the eye. 

“Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, at first. But I never thought about taking it off, actually. Perhaps because it feels too good to have it played with.” she replied with a smirk, making his heart rate quicken. 

The reality of his situation crashed back into him suddenly, his breath catching in his throat. “My hand’s shaking” he whispered, looking up at her. Her fingers were back in his curls, tugging some of them between her digits deliciously.

“It’s alright, Fitz.” Her fingers reached for his shaky ones, curling gently around them, only to bring it up to her left breast. “I trust you.” 

He wanted to fight her, to tell her how afraid he was to hurt her by curling his hand violently around her delicate skin. But he couldn’t seem to find his words as he looked down at the way his hand hovered above her breasts. And when Jemma pressed his palm against her, the diamond like tip of her nipple pushing against his skin, Fitz let out a low moan. 

“What if--”

“Fitz. You won’t hurt me. I trust you.” 

Words flew right out of Fitz’s mind as he curled his hand around her breast, a shiver running through his entire body. The feeling of her soft flesh was incredible, more so than he’d ever imagined. Tilting his head to the side, encouraged by Jemma’s hands in his hair, Fitz looked at the one he wasn’t massaging with renewed interest. As he’d noticed once, her skin was covered in freckles that ran from her face to the pierced nipple, and he suddenly felt the urge to kiss every single one of them. But for now, he was more interested in her perky, jewel covered bud, just begging to be touched.

The moment his lips closed around it, Fitz felt the tremors that ran through Jemma’s body. She let out a small pleasured gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, and Fitz felt his cock twitch in interest. Her hardened nipple felt like heaven against his tongue, just as much as it did around his palm. The metal bar didn’t feel as weird as he thought it would at first, and he gently found his way around it, moving it in time with his ministrations. As he lavished her breasts, Fitz felt himself grow harder than he’d ever remembered being in his trousers. He was half tempted to push his free hand against it to relieve some pressure, but decided against it when Jemma moaned again, snapping his attention back to her. 

“Fitz, I need…” she wriggled against him, pressing her thighs firmly together.  _ Oh _ . “More!” 

Opening her fly with shaky fingers wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but Fitz found himself transported by her small laughs and fingers grazing his scalp. When he’d thought that anything remotely intimate would throw him off or make him panic, Jemma proved him wrong with how  _ right _ this entire situation felt.

“Can I?” he asked eventually once her fly was opened, revealing black lacy knickers that perfectly matched her discarded bra. 

Taking off her jeans wasn’t as gracious as the rest had been so far, and they were giggling by the time they were done. Once Jemma was standing in her panties in front of him, Fitz let out a slow, shaky breath. 

“You’re perfect” he whispered, looking up at her. Her smile was blinding, and she couldn’t resist stealing a kiss that left them both breathless. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, are you?” 

This time, touching her didn’t come as easily as it did with her breasts. Jemma must have felt his hesitation, because she grabbed his hand once more, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Do you wanna keep going?” she asked, voice kind. 

All he could do to reply was nod, taking in the expanse of her almost naked body. He’d never thought he’d get to see her like this, or get to experience such an intimate moment with her. It was a little overwhelming, if he thought about it. 

“Trust me?” Jemma asked eventually, bringing his hand down between her legs. 

“Jemma…”

“Fitz. Trust me when I say this… a shaky hand truly isn’t a disadvantage sometimes.”

Her sentence made him giggle, something she seemed quite pleased with. But all hilarity was lost when his shaky fingers grazed the lace of her panties, and Fitz looked down. 

“I guess anatomy isn’t an abstract construct to such a great engineer as you,” Jemma teased as she caressed the back of his hand with her thumb.

Huffing a laugh, Fitz shook his head. When this entire situation was a little overwhelming for sure, he knew exactly where everything he needed to focus on was. Wasting no time, he slipped the pad of his thumb against her mound before pressing slightly where he imagined her clit might be. The pleased gasp that Jemma let out told him that he’d nailed his exploration, and he couldn’t resist looking up at her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes glassy, and he smiled. “There?” 

“Yeah, you clever engineer. You found my magic button,” she said jokingly.

Deciding to take things a little further, Fitz crooked his finger inside of her panties and pushed them to the side, revealing her clit to the warm air of the bedroom. From where he was sitting, Fitz couldn’t exactly glance at it, but his head was already swarming with the dampness he’d felt on the fabric. If he’d doubted the effect the situation had on her, all doubts had been erased from his mind as he finally pressed his middle finger against her bundle of nerves. 

“Fitz!” Jemma exhaled, hips moving against the touch. “Oh, that’s lovely.” 

The feeling of her damp and so incredibly soft skin was enough for Fitz to moan as well, and for the first time in his life, he realized that he wanted to put his mouth where his fingers were. He’d never been one to find interest in sex with anyone besides Jemma, and the concept of oral sex never really appealed to him. But there he was, taking in the wonderful sounds Jemma made as he touched her, and all he wanted to do was bury his head between her legs and lick at her bundle of nerves until she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Jemma” he whispered in awe. “Am I… tell me w-what you need.” 

Jemma’s hand, still holding his, finally moved to slide against his busy fingers. As he looked down, Fitz realized it was probably one of the most erotic sights he’d ever seeen. Her thin fingers framed his perfectly, and she gently encouraged him to draw small circles with his fingers on her clit. Her hips immediately followed the movement with small sighs of pleasure, and Fitz watched with fascination as her head fell back and she moaned openly towards the ceiling. 

“God you feel so good” she whispered, teeth digging in her lower lip as she looked down at him again. “More?” 

The tremors in his hands hadn’t substituted by the time she guided two fingers inside of her, and Fitz gasped when they slipped inside her velvet walls. She was tight and swollen with desire around him, her juices coating his hand, and it was one of the most erotic things Fitz had ever seen in his life. Curling his fingers inside of her, he looked for that spot he’d heard so much about in the books he’d read  —he did his research, alright?— and was delighted to feel her thighs shake when he grazed a small, spongy area. 

“God, yes, right there” Jemma whispered, her brows creasing in concentration. Her hand was tight in his hair, and it would have been slightly painful if it didn’t feel so damn good. Using the opportunity, Fitz bent his body forward a little to try and lick at her swollen clit, making her gasp in surprise. He couldn't quite see what he was doing to her with the angle, but he felt the tip of it graze his tongue and immediately applied some pressure on it. The moan Jemma offered in response was loud and almost obscene, and sounded like music to his ears. 

Fitz closed his eyes, savouring her taste. The texture was odd, but not badly so, and he was quite surprised to realize that he liked it. The taste was so uniquely  _ Jemma _ , and it was enough to make his head spin. But soon enough, his ministrations became too much and Jemma urged him to pull back with a hand in his curls. “Enough” she whispered, cheeks flushed a deep red now. “I don’t wanna come like this, and you’re far too dressed.” 

Fitz let out a small chuckle. As soon as Jemma took a step back though, he did a quick job of pulling his shirt off, letting it fall on the floor like the rest of Jemma’s clothing. Jemma had been busy discarding the remaining bit of clothing covering her body, and she looked up at him just as his hands reached for his own jeans. Under her gaze, Fitz felt himself flush from head to toes. He wasn’t the most confident person ever as of his thin body, and he’d never really found himself in such a situation before. The way his hand trembled as he tried to open his fly only added to his frustration, and he couldn’t bear to look at Jemma in the eyes anymore. Dropping his head, he huffed a small but heavy breath, feeling his eyes water with humiliation. 

“Fitz” Jemma immediately said, pushing two fingers under his chin to force him to look up at her. Her eyes were kind, and a small smile was stretching her beautiful lips. “It’s okay not to be able to do small things like this, especially under stress” she said, and Fitz exhaled. “Let me help, okay?” 

She pulled at his hands until he got up, facing her in all his glory. The expense of his chest was awfully white, something he’d never quite been able to shake off living in Scotland of all places and being unable to get a tan, but Jemma’s eyes seemed appreciative all the same. She let her hands roam up and down his chest, scratching at his body hair lightly, before pressing a kiss right above his heart.

“You’re incredibly handsome, I hope you know that.” 

Fitz laughed, something he hadn’t quite controlled. Jemma crooked an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. 

“S-Sorry. It’s just… I’m not really perfect, am I.” 

“I don’t care about perfect, Fitz. I just like you.” 

Her hands fell on his hips, then the edge of his jeans. With steady fingers, she opened his button and pushed down his fly, making him whimper when the back of her hand brushed against his very erect cock. Luckily for him, Jemma seemed to be pretty adamant about not wasting any time either, and she pushed both his jeans and boxers down his legs in no time, letting the fabric pool at their feet. As he stood there, completely naked and exposed, Fitz had the presence of mind not to hide his private parts with his hands like a kid, no matter how much he wanted to. 

“You’re perfect to me,” Jemma whispered, bringing their lips back together. 

When he was pretty sure he wasn’t —he owned a mirror, thank you very much— Fitz didn’t feel like arguing when their skins came into contact, electrifying his entire body from head to toes. Her skin was warm against his, their bodies fit so perfectly together, and Fitz wanted to cry. Feeling his uncertainty, Jemma stole yet another kiss before pushing him on the bed. He fell on his back, bouncing on the mattress a handful of times, before she straddled him. Fitz felt his breath catch in his throat as her breasts bounced in front of his very eyes, her piercing still glistening with his saliva. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, honey warm eyes completely filled with lust as she sat back on his thighs. 

He could feel the warmth of her pussy on his skin, his head spinning with lust as he looked up at the goddess currently straddling him. How could he ever live up to such a woman? He felt like he could wake up at any given moment, because this entire reality felt like a dream come true. 

“Yeah, of course” he whispered back, unable to stop his eyes from wandering at the expense of her skin. His heart was beating so hard it felt like it’s gonna burst right out of his chest. 

The sensation of her body against his was divine, and even without a brain injury, Fitz wasn’t sure he could have described it if asked about it. Each contact of Jemma’s skin against his sent tendrils of pleasure coursing through his entire body, and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. When Jemma bent forward a little bit, the tip of her hair tickled his chest and Fitz felt his stomach was lurch with need. Their lips touched hungrily, their mouths opening for one another and Fitz felt more than he heard Jemma moan in his mouth. When Jemma finally sat down right on his erect cock, the contact made them both gasp in the kiss. Fitz could feel how wet and burning with desire she was, and he was incapable of holding back his hands as they came up to frame her hips. 

“You know you can touch me, right?” Jemma teased gently as she pulled back, the tip of her nose caressing Fitz’s. Her breasts grazed his chest at the movement. 

Fitz felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

He gestured at his bad hand, trembling slightly as it rested against her freckled skin. Controlling the tremors seemed like the biggest effort in the world right now, and he had no idea if he’d be able to. 

“I told you Fitz, I trust you,” Jemma immediately replied, entwining their fingers to bring them up to her chest, covering her breast with his palm. “You’re doing well.” 

Fitz’s brain seemed to shortcut the moment his palm was in contact with her warm breast, and he let out a slow, even breath. Jemma’s eyes fluttered close as she arched her back into the feeling, and Fitz was instantly mesmerized by her pink lips. They parted around a small sigh of pleasure, and the sound seemed to reverberate through his entire being. 

“Jemma,” he whispered, almost painfully. “I don’t have… don’t have anything.”

She didn’t seem to understand what he meant at first. The moment he arched against her though, rubbing his cock against the swollen lips of her labia, she seemed to connect the dots. “Oh! You do, actually.”

Fitz didn’t have time to ask her what she meant before she bent over him, reaching for the drawer of his bedside table. He would have gladly followed the movement but he was instantly mesmerized by the swing of her breasts in front of his face, and Fitz couldn’t resist taking one into his mouth once more. Jemma let out a small surprised moan at the action, and Fitz was pretty sure he heard her purr in delight. 

“How do you know about this?” He asked once Jemma had resumed her previous position, her heat feeling delightful against his rock hard cock. Her right nipple was shining with saliva, and the sight alone shouldn’t have been that attractive. Jemma was busy opening the box of condom hastily, and he looked up when she took one out, throwing the box on the bedside table with precision. Fitz barely paid attention to it as the box ricocheted against the wood and fell back on the floor. 

“Tony,” she explained with a grimace. “He provided the plane when I called him last night, and made sure to tell me he’d put, and I quote “everything we could ever need” in your drawer.”

Fitz frowned. “Maybe I should have a d-discussion with my boss about how he shouldn’t be that interested in my sex life.”

Jemma let out a small, crystalline laugh. “Later,” she whispered, bending over to kiss him once more as she caught his dick in her hand. Fitz hissed in pleasure as she rolled the condom down his length, the sensation so foreign yet familiar. For a moment, he couldn’t take his eyes away from Jemma as she stroked him a few times, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. “Jemma,” he moaned, craving her in more ways than one. 

“I know. Is this position still okay?” She wondered as she got on her knees above him, her entrance hovering right above his dick. 

It was more than perfect, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. But Fitz found himself incapable of uttering a single word, so he simply nodded, his hands tightening on her hips. Jemma reached between their bodies to angle his cock before she sank down, swallowing him inside of her with a small moan. She was halfway down before she stopped, thighs trembling and eyes shut close in pleasure. 

“Fitz,” she whispered brokenly, opening her eyes to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and Fitz couldn’t do anything but moan brokenly in response, too. 

“Jem, you feel so g-good.” 

And she truly did. She was so perfectly tight and hot around him, even through the condom, and Fitz felt like his entire body was on fire. Pleasure sparked from his cock to the rest of him, and he had to grit his teeth not to let out an embarrassing moan when Jemma rolled her hips in tight little circles, walls fluttering around him. He could feel her relax as she slowly but surely bottomed out, taking a moment to just appreciate the feeling of them being joined this way. 

“G-good?” Fitz asked, his fingers trembling slightly against her skin. He used his good hand to bring it down to the place where they were joined, and timely pushed the flat of his thumb against her folds. Jemma’s hips stuttered in surprise, and Fitz let out a breath when her walls clenched around him. 

“Very good,” she assured with a smile. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.” 

All Fitz could do was nod a little numbly. Jemma smiled up at him, caressing the short hair on his torso with her warm fingers. The moment she reached his pectorals though, she shifted her weight and used his torso as balance to roll her hips, making them both sigh in pleasure. The sight alone could have been enough to throw Fitz above the edge as he looked at Jemma’s bouncing breasts, and her face flushed with pleasure. Each drag of Jemma’s warm body around him made his toes curl with pleasure and he knew he wouldn’t last long if she kept this up. 

Watching her move above him in all her glory, panting and moaning with each movement was everything though. Fitz was not about to let her do all the work however, and as Jemma raised on her knees once more to fall back against him, he used his feet planted on the mattress as balance to meet her movements. The friction pushed the pad of his thumb now trapped between their bodies against the hard numb of her clit, and Jemma let out a loud yelp of surprise. Her eyes bore into his immediately, the dark of her irises almost swallowing her brown pupils, and Fitz realized that she was probably the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen in his life. The sounds she made were like a melody to his ears, and Fitz felt like he could die a happy man after today.

“Fitz,” Jemma moaned as her movements grew erratic, her breath coming out in small pants. “Fitz, I’m--” 

She let out a strangled moan when he used his bad hand to clumsily bring her down to meet his thrust a little harder, angling his hips up in a way he knew would drive her crazy. When he didn’t have much experience with sex in itself, he knew quite a lot about women’s erogenous zones. After all, he’d taken a few biology classes back when he was studying engineering, because he was bored and his classes seemed way too easy anyway. 

Her next movement made his head spin, and Fitz threw his head back into the pillow as his hips twitched. “Jemma, I’m not gonna l-last.” His hand was firm against her creamy skin, and he did his best to roll the thumb of his other hand against her swollen numb. 

Jemma’s reaction was immediate. With a small sob of pleasure, she quickened the pace of her hips, rolling them in a way that made Fitz wonder if she truly was a goddess sent from heaven to torment him. It took no more than a minute for her walls to clench around him in a way that made his breath catch, and she was coming. Fitz couldn’t take his eyes away from her as her eyes closed against the onslaught of pleasure that cursed through her veins, and her body shook apart in his arms. Almost by automatism, Fitz opened his arms to allow her to curl against him, which she did willingly. Their lips met again as the last of her tremors subsided, and Fitz lost himself in the kiss for a moment, the slow drag of Jemma’s lips and tongue against his making his stomach swoop.

“Fitz,” Jemma eventually whispered as she broke the kiss, her brown eyes opening to bore into his. “It’s your turn, now.”

Before he could ask her if she was sure, Jemma balanced herself on her wrists, hands digging into the pillow on every side of his head as she rolled her hips once more. Her back was arched in such a way that her breasts pressed against his torso, and Fitz was free to kiss her as she moved slowly. She was even tighter than before due to her orgasm, and Fitz felt himself slip towards the edge sooner than he would have liked. The feeling of Jemma’s lips against his, sliding down his jaw and the side of his neck was what outdid him, and Fitz let go with a soft gasp. 

His entire body shook as he climaxed, toes flexing onto the bed and calves muscles tensing. Jemma let out a soft sigh, framing his face with her hand as she caught his lips in another kiss, sweeter than the ones before. By the time Fitz had stopped shaking and sighing in pleasure, she was all but nipping at his lower lip playfully. 

“Good?” she asked, echoing his question playfully. Fitz let out a groan, rolling his eyes as she giggled at him and his --no doubts, stupid and content expression. 

“I like these kinds of discussions,” he whispered eventually, making her chuckle even more against his collarbone. 

“It’s pretty nice, isn’t it?” 

She eventually rolled off of him, helping him take care of the condom. His hands were less shaky than they’d been as they’d started to make love, but the entire thing was slippery enough to be a little tricky for him still. After disposing of the rubber in the bin next to the bed, Jemma walked into the adjacent bathroom, still entirely naked. Fitz had to blink several times to make sure he wasn’t entirely dreaming as he looked at her from the bed, his entire body now boneless and sore in the best way. Somehow, if he’d had the strength and will to raise his arm and pinch his thigh, Fitz felt like he would a couple of times. 

When Jemma came back from the bathroom after cleaning up a little bit and flushing the toilets, she helped him clean up with a wet towel. Fitz couldn’t help but sit up this time, catching her mouth in a slow but languid kiss that surprised the both of them. Jemma’s gasp was swallowed entirely as their tongues came into contact, and he could feel her body relax instantly in his arms. 

“I’m really glad you took that plane back to New York,” Fitz whispered against her lips, pushing his forehead against hers. “Even if we still have a lot to talk about.” 

Jemma nodded. Her honey brown eyes were filled with emotions as she looked back at him, and Fitz felt his heart flutter in his chest. “Later, okay?” she said, rubbing their noses together playfully. “For now, I wanna enjoy a good nap in your arms.” 

And who was Fitz to deny her?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on social media, on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm) for updates on this story as well as small snippets from my other works, or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> You can find me on my fanfiction dedicated [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/phlebotinxm), or my [main account](https://twitter.com/KeptinOnZeBridg)!


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